A Fool Such as I
by seejanewrite88
Summary: Post Twilight, Suze and Jesse’s relationship is growing, but their happiness is having an effect on Father Dominic, whose own love was cut off too soon… but what if there's a way to reunite the priest and his true love? no longer on hiatus-- COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

Well, I got some inspiration for a new story. Hope you enjoy it. I can't promise a lot of updates, but I have midterms coming up (which means half days), and I don't study, so I'll have some free time on my hands.

Rating: T 

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mediator series. Duh.

Summary: Post Twilight, Suze and Jesse's relationship is growing, but their happiness is having an effect on Father Dominic, whose own true love was cut off too soon… but what if his darling Marilyn returns after all these years? What if Suze realizes she can travel back to keep her from dying in the first place?

Chapter One 

The phone on the wall rang, and instantly I perked up. "Room 212. Oh, yes, hello, Lianne." Sister Ernestine's lips pursed, but she responded to Father Dominic's secretary with a, "Yes, of course. She'll be right down." I had already gathered by books when she hung up the phone and turned to me. "Miss Simon, Father Dominic wants to see you. And will you please ask him to schedule your meetings at a different time? You've been called out of Religion seven times in the past two weeks. There is no way you will pass the exam if you're never in class."

"Sorry, Sister, I can't help when Father Dominic wants to see me," I said, as I breezed out of the room.

I stole a moment in the bathroom to fix my hair and makeup before continuing to the office. Not that I'm trying to impress Father D., but rather someone else I was sure was there.

"'Morning, Lianne," I said, and she waved distractedly as she spoke on the phone to someone—judging by her frazzled tone, the Monsignor.

"Ah, here she is," Father Dom said. "Good morning, Susannah."

"Hello, _querida_," Jesse smiled, standing up as I entered the room. He kissed me quickly, and pulled out the chair for me at Father Dominic's desk. He placed his hand casually on my back as I sat down.

"Hey, Suze," Paul said, slouching in his chair with one foot resting on the corner of the desk. Jesse looked at him disapprovingly.

"Now, have--" Father D. began, but Lianne soon buzzed in.

"Father, Monsignor Constantine is on the phone. I told him you were in a meeting with some students, but he needs to speak to you now. Line three."

Father Dominic sighed. "Of course, Lianne. Excuse me, children." He picked up the phone, hit a button, and said tiredly, "Hello, Peter."

Jesse and I politely tuned out (I think Paul was too busy texting on his phone to have been paying attention anyway.) His free hand found mine, while his other one continued to gently make circles on my back. I rested my other hand on his knee.

"Are you free this evening, Susannah?" he asked quietly, while Father Dominic continued to speak with increasing frustration and weariness.

"I have a student council meeting until seven," I said, "but I can blow that off, no problem."

Jesse smiled. "No, no. I have a lecture until then, I'll be done about 7:15. Do you want to come over afterward, for dinner? Or do you have too much homework?"

"Of course not." Like I would pass up dinner with Jesse to do pre calc. "I can walk over to the Society after my meeting." I squeezed his knee.

"Pasta or chicken?" he asked with a smirk.

Jesse was still learning to cook, but he was trying. Even though his pasta was just from a box with sauce from a jar, and his chicken was one of those rotisserie ones that you stick in the oven for 20 minutes, it was delicious. I would gladly give up Andy's gourmet for Jesse's, well, less than gourmet, cooking.

"Pasta," I said, smiling back at him. I quickly pecked his lips, but then Father D. cleared his throat, and we separated. But he didn't look angry, just… sad.

"Sorry about the interruption. Now, any new ghosts you've encountered?" Paul shut the phone and slipped it into his pocket.

"I'm still working with Jim," Jesse reported dutifully. "He's beginning to open up about his parents." Jim was a nine year old boy who died a few years ago, and didn't know how he died—but from what he was saying to Jesse, he suspected Jim was a victim of child abuse. His research showed that Jim was murdered, but the case was unsolved.

"I just got rid of Erin," Paul said, uninterested. We all looked at him incredulously. "Relax. I didn't exorcise her or anything. I just finally got her to realize her boyfriend was an ass and not worth hanging back here for."

"Excellent," Father said, though a bit uncertainly. "Susannah?" I shrugged.

"Nothing yet. Not since Alice, last week." Thank God. I was thoroughly enjoying my ghost-free week off.

"Good, good… let me know if you are helping someone else." I nodded. "Well, now, is that all?" No one said anything, so he continued. "That's it, then. Susannah, Paul, you may go back to class. Jesse, are you going to work?" He nodded, standing up.

Jesse is going to begin classes at the Carmel State University in the fall, and until then, he is working two jobs to save up for paying tuition, and keeping him in his small, one-room apartment downtown. He works mornings and afternoons at the local branch of Borders, and gives lectures at the Carmel Historical Society in the evenings.

We all left the office, and while Paul continued down the hall, Jesse and I stopped to say goodbye. "I'll see you at about seven?" Jesse confirmed, his arms circling my waist and pulling me close.

I wrapped my arms around him in a hug, and pressed my lips against his, and then again, and then for a third time…

"Ahem. Susannah, you ought to get to class." I nodded.

"Bye, Jesse," I said, catching his hand as we pulled apart and squeezing it.

"Bye, _querida_," he called, as I followed Paul's footsteps down the hall. I heard Father Dom ask Jesse, "Can I speak to you a moment?" and I worried I had gotten him in trouble.

When I slid back in my seat, Cee Cee flicked a note onto my desk. _You look flushed_, it said. _Did Jesse happen to be at your mediator meeting?_ I glanced over at her and grinned, confirming her suspicions. She grinned back wickedly.

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"Okay, I think we've covered, like, all the important stuff. You all are free to go," Kelly proclaimed. I began gathering my things when she spoke again to me. "Suze, do you, like, have a ride home?" Startled, I shook my head.

"I'm heading to the Historical Society, actually. It's just a few blocks away."

"I'll drive you, no prob." Surprised, I thanked her, and we headed out to her car (after she told Debbie to find another ride, which definitely piqued my curiosity). "Like, why are you going there, anyway?" she asked as she put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Oh, Jesse lectures there. I'm meeting him up after work, and then we're heading over to his apartment for dinner."

"Wow, he must be really smart if he works there," she said.

"Yea, he is really smart. He's going to school next year to me a doctor," I said, taking a moment to be the Proud Girlfriend.

"That's awesome," she said half-heartedly. "So, how are you guys doing? Like, relationship wise."

Suddenly, I realized exactly why she had offered me a ride.

"Fantastic," I said enthusiastically. "Never better."

"Great," she said, even less meaningfully than before. "Where did you guys meet, anyway? I've lived here for almost my whole life, and I'd never seen him before that dance back in December."

I figured the truth wouldn't fly ('Oh, he was haunting my bedroom') so I came up with the vague answer Jesse and I had prepared for this question. "Just around the neighborhood. You know. He didn't really get out much. He was new to Carmel." Her Porsche pulled up in front of the brick building. "Thanks for the ride!" I said, and I slid out of the car, waggled my fingers at her, and shut the door. She sped off a moment later.

I was a familiar face with the receptionist, and I didn't even have to ask before she said, "Jesse's lecture isn't quite finished. You can slip in the back, if you want. It should be over in a minute or two." I thanked her, and went down the hall, glancing briefly at the paintings and relics on the wall.

I slipped into the back of the small auditorium, where Jesse was in the front, speaking about Old Carmel, and what went on back in the days he was alive. A PowerPoint presentation was reflected on a screen, with photographs, pictures, and letters that had been scanned onto a computer.

At the end of the PowerPoint, he asked if anyone had any questions, and I raised my hand. I was in the back, so I don't think he could see my face. "Yes?" he asked, pointing in my direction.

"Can you tell me about the de Silva family?" I asked with a serious face. Jesse squinted, discerned my face, and grinned.

"Of course. Manuel de Silva immigrated to the Monterrey Peninsula in 1810, with his wife Mercedes, and started one of the largest ranches in Northern California. They had three children, Miguel, Jose, and Carmen. Manuel divided his ranch between his two sons, who, later on, decided to join the two together with the marriage of Miguel's oldest son, Hector-" Jesse smirked at me, "-and Jose's daughter Maria. Unfortunately, Maria was already in a relationship with a slave driver named Felix Diego, who murdered Hector and thus ended the de Silva line."

"Isn't your last name de Silva?" someone in the front row asked. "Are you related?" I stifled my laughter, imagining the group's response to an honest answer.

"Coincidence, I suppose," Jesse said breezily, though he did catch my eye. "Perhaps a very, very, distant cousin." There weren't any more questions, so people slowly began leaving the small auditorium, and I started walking down to where Jesse was drinking from a bottle of water and shutting down the computer. "Hey, _querida_," he said, as I approached him. I leaned over the seat between us and kissed him quickly.

"Nice answer," I said jokingly.

"Thanks," he said, laughing. A woman approached him, who had obviously been sitting in the audience.

"Mr. de Silva?" Jesse shook her hand.

"Please, Jesse."

"I just wanted to tell you how fascinated I was by your lecture. It was like you had actually _been_ there," she praised. I quickly turned my burst of laughter into a cough.

"Thank you very much," he said politely. She rested her hand casually on his arm—a little _too_ casually.

"I was wondering when your next lecture was. I would love to see you again." Jesse and I exchanged glances.

I was actually rather amused. This woman was in her mid 30s, easily, and she was hitting on a 20 year old guy.

"Um, well, I am going to be speaking about the artists and writers of the area on Tuesday, at 6:00. I hate to, uh, cut this conversation short, but I've kept my girlfriend waiting long enough," he said. He was obviously more nervous than amused by the whole situation.

The woman looked at me, and I smiled and waved. "Hello."

"Sorry to keep you," she said. "Thanks again."

"Not at all," Jesse said, obviously relieved she didn't press the matter. She went back to her friend, and they left, leaving Jesse and me alone.

"Someone has a cru-ush," I said in a sing-song tone, to tease him. He rolled his eyes as he locked the projector into a closet, grabbed his jacket, and took my hand as we left the auditorium. He signed out, said goodbye to Barbara, and led me out the door towards the parking lot.

"You know, someone else has a crush on you, too," I said. He smiled.

"You?" I looked at him disgustedly.

"Where would you get _that_ idea?" I asked, and he laughed and wrapped his arm around my waist. "No. Kelly has the hots for you," I informed him. He looked thoughtful.

"That blonde girl? I thought she and Paul were going out." I shook my head.

"He broke up with her about a month ago. Now, though, I think she has her sights set on you. She drove me here, just to see if we were on the verge of breaking up, so she could sink her paws into you." Jesse shuddered, and I laughed. "Don't worry, I set her straight."

He opened the passenger seat door of his old, beat up Honda—the thing he loves best in the world, besides me, he assured. I slid in and buckled my seat belt (Jesse is big on car safety) as he climbed into his own seat and started the car and headed off toward his apartment.

He held my hand loosely as he drove easily through the streets, then suddenly broke our comfortable silence. "Have you noticed something… odd with Father Dominic lately?" he asked. I thought, and remembered this morning.

"No, not really. Did he yell at you for making out with me?" Jesse shook his head.

"No. That's what I'm talking about. He just said something about Jim, then told me I was a very lucky man, and to hold on to you."

"That's weird," I said. "He usually starts going on about abstinence and 'appropriate interactions' whenever he sees you touch me." Jesse nodded as he pulled into the parking lot alongside his building.

"I don't know, maybe I'm imagining things. He just seems… off," Jesse said, after a struggle for words. He opened my car door, and helped me out.

"I'll pay closer attention next time I talk to him," I said. "Maybe something's bothering him."

We went up to his apartment, and Jesse busied himself in the kitchen boiling water and slicing bread, while I settled on his bed (Jesse didn't actually have a couch, as his apartment was practically miniscule. There was his bed, a desk, a dresser with a TV and radio, and a bookshelf in the only room besides the kitchen and the bathroom) and flipped on the TV. I knew Jesse loved Jeopardy! and I have to say, it was growing on me, too, so I flipped it on just in time for Final Jeopardy.

Jesse shouted out the answer from the kitchen before I even began to contemplate it. He was, of course, right.

About twenty minutes into Wheel of Fortune, Jesse popped his head in from the kitchen. "It's ready," he said. I switched off the TV and scampered into the kitchen, where he had a small candle lit in the middle of his worn, wooden kitchen table. Two plates of pasta were already laid out, with a basket of French bread and a small dish of parmesan cheese on the table.

"It looks delicious," I said, and sat down in the chair he had pulled out for me, and we began to eat.

We talked about school, and he told me a story about this crazy old woman who always comes in on Thursday at 12:15 exactly, asking for a copy of some obscure book that Jesse is fairly certain doesn't exist, as he has searched every single database available, and it isn't in any of them.

After we ate, Jesse began doing the dishes but I grabbed his hands and pulled him away from the sink.

"I only have about half an hour before I have to head home," I said, and pulled him along beside me into the other room.

I sat down on the bed, and he immediately was at my side, his arms around me, his lips against mine, caressing gently.

We fell against the mattress as his tongue found its way into my mouth, and we moved carefully until he was on top of me, one of his knees between mine. His hand had found its way to my waist, and was teasing the skin where my skirt and t-shirt had separated.

I moaned softly into his mouth, and his hand on my lower back urged me against him, as his other worked its way up my stomach and under my bra.

We continued this way for a good amount of time, until I felt something familiar pressing against my leg, and I knew Jesse would be ending it soon, lest he lose control and do something he might regret.

I do have to say, though, he doesn't need to worry about self control, because he obviously has that bit down if we haven't done it yet.

Just as I expected, I soon felt his warm hand pull out from under my shirt, and he rolled onto his elbow, leaning over me slightly and panting. I sat up, straightened my shirt, and deftly re-hooked my bra. His hand went to my cheek and held my face gently. I smiled, kissed him gently, and then glanced at his clock.

"It's about time that I should go, anyway," I whispered, and he looked over at the clock too, and sighed.

He rolled off the bed, as did I, and I helped him wash the dishes, then he drove me home. We kissed for several minutes in his car, before my mom turned on the porch lights and I knew she knew we were out there. "I'll call you tomorrow," he whispered, and kissed me one last time before I slipped out of his car and up to my house.

I said the required things to my parents about what I did at Jesse's (had dinner, watched some TV. I left out the making out and getting to second base part), before heading up to my room.

But I couldn't climb into bed and fall asleep, dreaming about Jesse. Because on my window seat was sitting a girl. Who happened to be dead.

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Hope you enjoyed chapter one. I don't know when I'll get chapter two up, but from prior experience I know that when I get a lot of reviews, I get inspired to write sooner.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Hi," I said, kicking my shoes off and sitting on my bed. "What's up?"

The ghost looked at me, startled. "Oh, you must be the Mediator they told me to go see." She was about my age, maybe younger. She was pretty in a classic way. Her blonde hair was curled and pinned back, and she was wearing a light blue cardigan over a button down shirt with a dark blue A-line skirt. Very retro. Cute. Though a bit overdone, in my opinion.

"Yea, I'm Suze," I said, introducing myself. "What's your name?" I must say, Jesse and Father Dom are rubbing off on me.

"Oh, I'm Marilyn. Marilyn Edwards. Nice to meet you."

"So, what are you doing here?" I asked. "I mean, why haven't you moved on?" She looked thoughtful.

"I did. At least, I thought I did. I was in a hallway for a few days, I think. Maybe a week or two. Wasn't that the afterlife?"

I looked at her, questioningly. "Like, a really long hallway? With doors? And no ceiling?" She nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing wildly.

"Yes, yes. You know what I'm taking about?" I nodded.

"Yea. But that wasn't the Afterlife. That was just Shadowland. Why were you there?" She shrugged.

"I don't know." She paused, and looked around the room. "You have strange things." She walked over to my dresser, where there was a radio and a TV. She felt along the side of the television. "Where's the dial?"

"Dial?" I asked, confused. "Oh, you want to turn it on. Here." I reached over to the remove on my bed, and flicked it on. She jumped, startled, when some MTV show came on.

"How did you do that?" she asked. "Is that some other power you have?" I laughed.

"No. It's called a remote." I demonstrated again, switching to the weather, then to What Not to Wear on TLC. Her fascination piqued my curiosity. "Hey, when did you die, anyway?" She knelt on the floor, looking up at the TV.

"Oh, I think it was late April, early May. I was walking home from school when I got hit by a car. Then I was a ghost, until I went into that Shadow Country a little bit after Christmas."

"No, I mean what _year_." She looked at me funny.

"1959, of course. Last spring." I sighed.

"Marilyn, it isn't 1959. Or 1960, or whatever. It's 2006." She stood up abruptly.

"2006?" She looked around. "My goodness, I must have been in that hallway for more than a month or two."

"Obviously," I said under my breath. "How did you get up there? In Shadowland?" She shrugged.

"I don't know. I left my…er, friend's house, and then I was there. And now I'm here." I paused.

"Friend? Was she another mediator, or were you just visiting someone who couldn't see you?" She blushed.

"Uh, he was a mediator." Huh. Well, this was a good 45 years ago, he probably wasn't around anymore.

I glanced at the clock, and even though it wasn't quite ten yet, I was pretty tired. "Listen, I think you ought to go and, well, get used to the fact that it's 2006 now." She nodded.

"Thank you," she said, and dematerialized.

Very, very unusual.

I slipped on a pair of soft cotton pajama pants and a white tank top, went downstairs for a quick snack, then curled up in my bed and watched TV before falling asleep.

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The next day, Saturday, I met up with Jesse for a late lunch at a small café at the beach, then taking a walk barefooted in the sand. Over sandwiches and fresh-squeezed lemonade, I told him about my visitor the previous night.

"Did that ever happen to you?" I asked as I slipped off my shoes and left them in the sand, near the break in the fence that led to the parking lot where Jesse's car was. "Getting stuck in Shadowland?" He did the same.

"No. I mean, when Jack exorcised me, I was stuck there, but I knew what had happened. Not specifics, but you sort of know when you've been exorcised. It's a violation against the natural process of things, and it can be very… jarring for the ghost. She would likely realize something bad had happened."

I considered this as we walked. "Do you think her friend might have been a shifter, and done something to her?" He thought.

"Perhaps. Maybe you should talk to Paul, or Dr. Slaski, and see if there's something that will do that… force a ghost into Shadowland, but not an exorcism. And how did she get out? This is very strange." I nodded, and took his hand in mine. "Maybe we should talk to Father Dominic, too. Do you want to come to mass with me? Father Dominic has a 5:00 mass on Saturdays, then we can talk to him afterward." He gave me a sideways glance. "Besides, I would very much like you to come to church with me."

I was silent for a moment. Church? I wasn't entirely sure about that. I may go to a Catholic school, but I can't say I've ever been to mass outside of the mandatory ones they have during school on Holy Days of Obligation.

But I knew church was important to Jesse. He went every Sunday (or Saturday, for that matter), showed up at the masses during school, and I always saw him on Monday afternoons at reconciliation (after all, I usually gave him a few sins to confess).

"Okay," I said. "I'll come. And Andy is having dinner tonight, so you can come over to eat afterward." He smiled, and we continued walking a ways down the beach.

Eventually, we took a break, and sat down on the sand and watched the waves for a while in silence. I rested my head on his shoulder, and his arms held me close. Then his hand came to my chin, and lifted my face so that my lips were accessible to his.

We fell back against the sand, just holding each other and kissing (and getting major sand in my clothes, but I didn't care). Eventually, though, I felt something wet and slobbery on my face (and no, it wasn't Jesse getting a little over excited with his tongue). We broke apart, and I found a black lab licking my face.

"Sorry," a middle aged man said as he approached us, laughing. "You'll have to excuse Ruby here."

"Of course," I said, standing up and brushing sand off my clothes and skin. Jesse did the same, but his cheeks were flaming.

"Have a good day," he said, winking at me, and he tossed a tennis ball and the dog left us alone and chased after it, her owner following close behind.

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Later that afternoon, I found myself back at the Basilica in school, sitting in a wooden pew next to Jesse. His hand held mine loosely as he sang, stood, kneeled, stood again, sat back down, and repeated what Father Dominic was saying. I admit, I sort of zoned out during the homily, but the readings sounded sort of nice, and I even recognized the third one. The songs were sort of pretty, too.

After mass, as the rest of the parishioners began to leave, Jesse and I approached Father Dominic, who was now out of his vestments and in the traditional black suit with the white collar. He looked up from blowing out the candles, and smiled—although, since I was paying more attention, I noticed a tremor of sadness.

"Ah, Susannah, what a surprise!" he said happily. "I don't usually see you here on weekends."

"Jesse convinced me to come," I admitted.

"How nice," he said. The sadness in his eyes was back, though his smile was still on his face.

"Actually, Father," Jesse began, and looked around cautiously. Sensing that he was going to be saying something about our mediator abilities, Father Dominic led us into the now empty sacristy. "Susannah met with a ghost last night," he continued, "and we thought it would be a good idea to discuss it with you."

"Oh?" he asked, willing me to elaborate.

"Yea. She died a long time ago—like, 50 years ago or so—but didn't realize that the time had past. I think she had been a ghost, but then somehow got stuck in Shadowland and then suddenly returned." He considered this thoughtfully.

"That's very unusual. She wasn't exorcised?" I looked at Jesse, who again offered his explanation that he had given me earlier, on the beach.

"But she did know another mediator," I said. "She was friends with one."

"I'll have to think about that. I wonder how she got back to Earth? Or how she got to Shadowland to begin with. Might Mr. Slater know?"

"I'll ask him," I said. "I'll talk to him on Monday, at school."

"I'll call a meeting," he said, and I hid a grin. Father Dom _always_ scheduled our little meetings during my Religion class. Paul wasn't so lucky—he got called out of his lunch. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Susannah. I'll think about it." We said our goodbyes, and then Jesse and I left the church and went to his car.

We made the quick trip up to my house, and enjoyed a wonderful dinner made by Andy. I have been blessed with a boyfriend whom my parents love. She may have had a few reservations in the beginning, with Jesse being 20, but she's gotten over that completely the past few months. I am beginning to think if she weren't married, and he weren't dating me, _she_ would be the one going over to Jesse's apartment every possible moment. She trusts us explicitly, even though she really shouldn't.

For example, after dinner, as she was turning on the news with her glass of wine, I said, "Mom, Jesse and I are going upstairs. He's going to help me with some bio homework."

"Sure thing, Susie," she said, glued to the story about something our president was doing to screw us over.

So we trotted up the steps into my room, where, as soon as I heard the door close, I turned around, pushed myself against him, and pressed my mouth to his. His arms came around my waist, pressing my lower back and urging me against him.

We had almost made it to the bed when I saw a flurry of someone materializing. "Oh!" Marilyn gasped. "I-I- Sorry!"

She went to dematerialize, but Jesse said, "No, no, it's alright." The mood was spoiled anyway. I caught my breath and straightened my skirt.

"You can see me too? Are you another mediator?"

"Yes, he is," I said simply. After explaining that Jesse used to be a ghost, but is alive now, to a guy who wanted nothing more than to be alive again so he could get that promotion and the $500K a year salary, we realized that this would only lead to angry, violent eruptions when we further explained that Jesse is a rare case, and we can't do that for anyone else.

"Marilyn, correct?" Jesse said, and she nodded. "I'm Jesse."

"I just came back to tell you that I remembered something else. About what happened the day I wound up in… what did you call it? Shadowplace?"

"Shadowland," I corrected.

"Right. Well, my friend and I were talking about my death, and I was telling him stuff about what happened that day. He said he was supposed to help figure out why I was still there, that it was what God had told him to do. Help ghosts, I mean." She paused, and wrinkled her nose a tiny bit. "I never went for all that God's plan stuff," she said. "Everyone was always talking about God and going to church, but I think it's a lot of hogwash." Jesse and I exchanged glances.

"That doesn't sound as if it would cause you to move on," I said.

"But you didn't actually move on at all, did you?" Jesse added. "You were just in Shadowland the past 45 years." She shrugged.

"I suppose so. I just thought that was the afterlife." I noticed she didn't call it "heaven" like most people did.

"Listen, I think it would be a good idea if you were to talk to two other people we know," I said. "Paul, a kid my age, and the principal at my school. On Monday. They might have some answers."

"Okay," she agreed, and started to disappear before she came back again. "And I'm sorry about interrupting you two." Then she was gone.

"She seems nice," Jesse commented, as he sat down next to me on the bed. "Not the type who will become violent."

"Thank God," I said, rubbing a spot on my shoulder that was still a bit sore after a confrontation two weeks ago. Jesse's hands immediately came to the spot, and started rubbing and massaging the sore muscles. "Thanks."

"It's nothing, _querida_," he said, but soon there was a knock on the door and my mom came in.

"Susie? Do you and Jesse want some dessert?"

"That would be lovely, Mrs. Ackerman," Jesse said, getting off the bed and pulling me to my feet. After she left, we followed her more slowly down the stairs, so we could continue discussing Marilyn. "She can meet with Paul and Father Dominic," Jesse reminded. "Maybe then we will have some answers."

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Okay, a bit on the shorter side. But I thought now was a good stopping place. I have midterms from now until Wednesday, so that could mean I either don't update at all, or get two or three chapters up… we'll see.

So, anyway, don't forget to review. I want to have a lovely inbox surprise when I come back from mi examen de espanol tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Since Lipgloss reviewed anonymously, I'm replying to you here: You see how Jesse becomes alive, is that Suze goes back in time to keep Paul from preventing Jesse's death (which he threatened to do), but then she chickens out and tells Jesse about Felix Diego. Jesse kills Diego, then when Suze shifts back in time, only she brings _19_th century Jesse back. Then ghost-Jesse transfers into Alive-Jesse's body, and everything goes happily ever after.

Which you would know if you actually read the whole series.

Chapter Three 

The phone rang just when I was expecting it to. Sister Ernestine didn't even pick it up before she gave me the evil eye. I started to gather my books.

After a quick conversation with Lianne, she hung up and sent me on the way without a word, just a flick of her hand. I smiled sweetly as I walked out the door.

Paul and Jesse were waiting in the reception area this time, not in Father Dominic's office. I sat down next to Jesse, and his hand gave my knee a squeeze. Paul rolled his eyes at us.

"Is Marilyn coming?" Jesse asked quietly, as to not be overheard by Lianne. I nodded.

"I told her we usually meet around 11:45, so she's going to come then." He nodded, and glanced at his watch. It was 11:43.

Father Dominic opened his door, and smiled at us. "Oh, good, you're all here. Please, come in." He held it open as the three of us slipped into his office. We took our seats, and Father Dom looked at me expectantly.

"Marilyn should be here any minute," I told him. He looked startled.

"Marilyn? That… that's her name, then?" I nodded. Paul looked between us.

"What's going on?" he asked curiously. "Who's Marilyn?" I quickly explained her circumstances, and he looked thoughtful.

"There might be a way to do that. I'll have to look through some of Gramps' notes, but I seem to remember reading about something like that last fall." Then I saw a ghost materialize in the corner, and I turned.

"Hi, Suze," she said. "Hi Jesse."

"Hi, Marilyn," I said. "This is Paul, and-" I turned to introduce Father Dominic, but he had turned stark white, and his mouth was hanging open slightly.

"Father?" Jesse asked uncertainly. Father Dominic quickly stood up.

"Excuse me, children, I… I need some air," he said weakly, and he flew out of the office. Marilyn looked perplexed.

"Is he okay?" she asked. Jesse and I exchanged looks.

"I don't know… maybe we should go check on him," I said nervously. Maybe he was having a heart attack or something. "Paul, why don't you talk to Marilyn, and Jesse and I will go check on him?" He nodded, and patted the chair that I had just vacated.

"Take a seat, Mari," he said. "Tell me about what's going on."

Jesse and I hurried out of the office, and into the courtyard where Lianne wordlessly pointed, indicating where Father Dom had went. We saw him a few yards away, going into the church.

We followed him, and found him in a pew, in prayer. "Father Dominc?" Jesse asked cautiously. He crossed himself, then stood up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I just… never thought I'd see her again," he said.

"What do you mean? You know her?" Father Dominic sighed, and rubbed his eyes. One hand darted into his pocket, and he began fiddling with his pack of cigarettes.

"Yes. I do. I, er, knew her quite well some time ago." Suddenly, everything clicked. It was crystal clear.

I was speechless. "You… and her…. She was…" While Jesse seemed perplexed, Father Dom knew what I was talking about.

"Yes, Susannah." I gaped.

"But you said she moved on! That's why-" I began, but he interrupted.

"I _thought_ she did. She disappeared, how was I to know any different?" he said, with a slight snap to his voice.

"I apologize, Father, but what is going on?" Jesse asked.

"Marilyn and I were… quite close, a long time ago," he said sadly. "When I was about your age, Jesse. She had died in a hit-and-run, and she came to me for mediation. However, I admit I... well, I didn't want to let her move on." Jesse, being the bright boy he was, figured it out. He was silent for a moment.

"I don't think she recognized you," I said gently. "Maybe we should go tell her. I'm sure she would like to see you again." He nodded, obviously distressed.

"Yes… I know." He turned again to the altar, closed his eyes for a moment, then crossed himself again, and followed us back to the office.

Marilyn and Paul were still chatting amiably when we returned. Father Dominic took his place behind his desk, and Marilyn stood up to give me my seat back.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked, and I could feel the stab in the heart that Father Dominic was surely feeling. _Sir._ That's almost as bad as _Miss Susannah_.

"Marilyn," he said gently. "Do you remember me?" She studied his face for a moment.

"You look familiar. I just can't place you, I'm sorry." Father Dominic looked mildly distraught, so I took over for him.

"Marilyn, you knew a mediator back after you died, right?" She nodded, and blushed slightly. "Dominic?" She nodded.

"How did you--" Then she caught sight of a teaching degree behind his desk, that clearly said his name, and she gasped. "Dom?" She looked at him, astonished.

"It's me, Marilyn." She looked him over, then spotted his collar.

"But.. you're… you're a…" she struggled for words. He nodded, obviously depressed.

"I'm a priest, yes." She was silent for a moment.

"I'm not that surprised," she said quietly.

Paul was obviously lost. "Wait, you two know each other?" I punched him in the arm to tell him to shut up. "Ow! Suze, what the f-"

"I'm sorry," Marilyn said abruptly. "But… I need to think about things. I'll be back, though, I promise." With that, she disappeared.

"Chidren, I, too, have to think about a few things… I must spend some time in prayer. You may return to your classes." We left in silence, leaving Father Dom alone in his sadness.

As soon as we were out of the office, Paul turned to me. "Okay, Simon, what the _hell_ was going on in there?" I sighed.

"Marilyn knew Father Dominic back in the 50s, before he became a priest." I gave him a significant look. "He became a priest _because_ she moved on." He looked at me, open mouthed.

"No way. He shacked up with a ghost?"

"_Shh_!" I said. "Shut up. He didn't 'shack up.' He was just in love with her." Paul sighed.

"Why am I the only _sane_ mediator? I mean, seriously. First you and Jesse, now Father Dom and Marilyn. Why do you all keep hooking up with freaking ghosts?"

"I am standing right here, Paul," Jesse said, deapan. "I am also no longer a _freaking ghost_."

"Whatever. I'll look that stuff up for you guys. I'm going to go find Vanessa," he said, and went of in search of his flavor of the week.

"I'd better get back to class," I said sadly. Jesse nodded in agreement.

"I'll walk with you," he offered, and we set off down the hallway. As we approached the classroom, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a hug. "I'll pick you up from school," he said, then leaned down and kissed me.

We remained like that for a moment, when the classroom door swung open, and Sister Ernestine came out. She spotted us, just as we broke apart, and her face instantly turned purple.

"SUSANNAH SIMON!" she bellowed. "What are you doing?" Jesse squeezed my hand, as a sort of confidence booster and also as an apology for getting me in trouble.

One that I would never accept, because he did nothing wrong.

"I'm returning to class," I said. "I'm coming back from my meeting."

"Meeting? I am beginning to suspect there _are_ no such meetings! What are these _meetings_ about, hmm? Not student council, and you have no other reason to be seeing him so regularly. Come with me, Miss Simon. We'll go speak to Father Dominic about these _meetings_ you have every day. You, young man," she said, now turning to Jesse, "leave." He squeezed my hand once more before departing.

Sister Ernestine abandoned her class, and dragged me down the hall to where I had just come from. "Sister," I said, trying to loosen the grip she had on my arm, "I don't think Father Dominic needs any interruptions. He's rather distraught."

"I'm not a fool," she proclaimed. "We will speak to Father Dominic, and we will speak to him _now._"

She stormed through the reception, ignoring Lianne, and threw open the door.

What we saw shocked us both.

Sitting at his desk was Father Dominic, though he was barely visible through the haze of smoke. On his desk was an open pack of Lucky Strikes, with an old ash tray that had several cigarette butts in it.

Upon the door flying open, Father Dominic quickly put out the half-smoked cigarette that had been in his mouth, and coughed uncomfortable. "Susannah… Sister Ernestine…. Please forgive me. Perhaps if we need to speak… we can do so elsewhere?"

"No, no, Father," she said faintly. "I apologize for barging in." She shut the door behind her, and said, still shocked, "Go, Susannah, before I change my mind."

Needless to say, I scampered.

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"But Jesse, he was _smoking_. A lot."

"I know, _querida_," Jesse said patiently. "But I don't know what you can do about it."

We were at his apartment after school, just lounging on his bed (as you may recall, he doesn't have a couch). Seeing Father Dom actually _smoking_ had really shaken me up. In all the things I've done, all the buildings I'd collapsed, he never actually took a hit at the cancer sticks.

But the mere sight of Marilyn drove him over the edge.

"There has to be something," I argued. "He's so upset." Jesse reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

"Susannah," he said gently, "Father Dominic is old enough to handle himself. He just received a shock today, that's all. I'm sure he'll be fine in a day or two." I sighed.

"Maybe," I said, unconvinced.

"Come on," he teased. "Most girls don't worry about their priest-friend's romantic well-being when they're with their boyfriend." I punched him playfully, and he laughed and grabbed my waist and pulled me so I was laying on top of him.

I leaned down, and pressed my lips to his. His hands wove themselves in my hair, while my own hands traced down his chest and stomach.

As one hand slowly found its way up my shirt, my last thought before allowing myself to enjoy second base was _I don't care what he says, I'm going to do something about it._.

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Again, a bit shorter, but whatever. It's been, like, two days. That's pretty good.

So, review for me, please?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Later that evening, when I was back at home, Marilyn came to visit. She looked so confused.

"That was really Dom?" she asked. I nodded. "It's been so long… he's so old now!" I shrugged.

"Even if you had stayed around with him, he would still be the same age as he is now." She sighed.

"I know… it's just…" she trailed off, deep in thought, then turned to me suddenly. "Why did he become a priest?" I just looked at her calmly.

"Did he have any intentions of going into the seminary when you knew him?" She shook her head.

"None. Well, he was always very religious. He'd go to church every Sunday, fast before mass, and didn't eat meat on Fridays. But he never wanted to join the seminary. He said… he said that he wanted to get married." My heart went out to the two of them.

"Maybe," I said slowly, "he did want to get married. But when he thought the woman he loved was gone forever, he decided to take another route." She looked at me blankly for a moment, but then a look of realization dawned on her face.

"You mean… he became a priest? Because of _me_?" She looked both heartbroken and pleased that he cared about her so much. But then she started to cry. "Why is it so hard? Why don't things just work out the way they're supposed to?"

"I know how you feel," I said, going over to rub her back. "I know."

"No you don't! You and Jesse are just so _perfect_, I doubt you've ever had any problems!" I chalked it up to a jealous resentment, and didn't get angry.

"Yes, we have," I said gently, and decided to tell her the truth. "The thing is… Jesse used to be a ghost. He was haunting this room when I moved here. And, well, we faced the same problems that you and Father Dom faced." She looked confused.

"How…?"

"It's a long story," I said, sighing. "How he came back, it really isn't repeatable. His was a…special case."

"Because you were in love with him," she said simply. I nodded.

"But I didn't intend to bring him back to life. It was actually an accident." I summarized the events of that night. Marilyn looked sad.

"I just wish Dom and I were given that chance," she said forlornly. "That we could ever, possibly, maybe have a future." She paused for a moment. "Well, I'll let you finish your homework." I glanced at the open notebook on my desk. "Bye, Suze."

The open heartbreak, the longing, the love in her voice struck me, and I felt for her.

And I knew what I was going to do.

"Wait, Marilyn," I said, and she stayed. "I want you to tell me everything you remember about the day you died."

"Oh. Um, okay," she said uncertainly. "It was in April, I think. No, it was the first day of May. I was walking home from school, when a car ran through a red light and hit me. I think. I'm not entirely sure _what_ happened."

"What street were you crossing?" I asked. Her face screwed up as she searched for details.

"Fourth Street. At the corner of Fourth and Sycamore Avenue." I ran through the database in my brain of local geography, and I remembered that it was a few blocks away from the Mission Academy, toward the newer section of town (newer being a relative term, as most of it was built in the 40s and 50s.). I also recalled that the Sacred Heart Girl's School was there.

"So this was maybe about 3:00?" I asked. She looked contemplative.

"A bit after. I was with Mary Sue and Barbara, and we stopped for milkshakes at the drug store. So more like 3:30, I think." I jotted this down on my science notebook, right next to my notes about the skeletal structure of the human being.

"Great. Thanks," I said.

"You're welcome," she replied, a bit puzzled. Then she disappeared.

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The next morning, I went to go see Father Dom. He was in his office, and he was a bit embarrassed to see me, after his breakdown the day before. I, however, got right to the point.

"Father D," I said, as I sat down in the chair across from him, "Where did you live when you knew Marilyn? When she died?" He looked at me suspiciously.

"Susannah, what are you--"

"I'm mediating, Father," I said, cutting him off. "I'm trying to figure out what her story is. And since you're involved in what's happening with her, I need to know what _your_ story is." He sighed.

"I was a freshman, at St. Francis Boy's College. That's what it used to be called—it joined up with the Holy Mother School for Girls in 1978, to become Carmel College, and since then, Carmel University." He paused, and rubbed his chin in thought. "I guess she came to me in the spring of 1959. May, probably. She was only a sophomore at the local girl's school when she died."

"Did you live at the dorms there?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yes, with the other students." He glanced at one of the pictures on his desk, and I picked it up and looked at it.

It was a black-and-white picture of four college-aged guys, sitting at a table in a restaurant. Or a bar.

But knowing Father Dom, probably a restaurant.

"Which one is you?" I asked, feigning innocent curiosity. He pointed to the second one on the right.

He had been very handsome as a teenager, and surely as he got older, as well. I bet he broke more than one heart when he became a priest.

Most startling, though, was his dark hair. It was weird to see him as a brunette, when I was used to his snowy white hair. Even so, despite the 45 years and the hair color change, it was clearly the same person.

"Those were my three closest friends, before I joined the seminary. Henry, Matt, and Charlie." All of them were attractive, too, in different ways.

The bell rang, and he looked at the clock. "My goodness, Susannah, you'd best get to class. Mr. Hale will not be pleased you're late… here's a pass," he said, as he scribbled my name on a loose scrap of paper.

"Thanks, Father Dominic," I said, and I slipped out of his office.

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"And what's your knee cap called?" Jesse asked patiently.

"Patenna?"

"Pa_tella_," he corrected. "And your breastbone?"

"Sterviun?" He gave me a funny look.

"_Sternum_," he said.

"But it says sterviun right here!" I protested. "I copied it right from the text book!" Jesse looked perplexed.

"Let me see," he said, and I shoved my notebook at him.

We were actually studying biology, at his kitchen table. I had a big test tomorrow, and he promised to help me memorize the skeletal system.

"Honestly, Susannah, it says _sternum_. You just can't read your own writing." He rolled his eyes. Then something caught his attention.

"Susannah, what's this? '4th and Sycamore, 3:30, May 1, 1959'?" I grabbed the notebook from him.

"Nothing. Just some stuff about Marilyn's death." He raised an eyebrow.

"What is so important about the exact time of her death?" I shrugged, not looking him in the eye.

"Just taking notes," I said vaguely, and started looking back at my text book. "Now, the vertebrae--" I began reading, but the book snapped shut, and I saw Jesse's accusing glare boring into me.

"You want to go back, don't you? To prevent her death?" I tried to look affronted, but failed horribly.

Jesse really _can_ read me like a book.

"No!" I denied vehemently, but then immediately implicated myself by continuing. "Besides, it's my job. To mediate. To fix things."

"_Nombre de Dios_, Susannah, no it isn't!" He stood up, and ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Not to risk your life to prevent a girl's death! You can't do that, trying to keep people from dying. Not by going back in time. Don't mess with God's plan." I snorted, unable to help myself.

"What about you, then? It was _God's plan_ for you to die 150 years before meeting me?" He struggled for words.

We were both strongly of the opinion that we were meant to be together. I thought of it as fate. He saw it more as Divine Plan.

"But bringing me back was an accident," he said finally. "You weren't trying to." He paused, to try to figure it out. "Damn it, Susannah, I don't even know what I'm talking about. Time travel is too confusing. There are too many ways to mess up. How do you know that if you keep Marilyn from dying, that you'll ever meet me? That you'll ever move to Carmel? That you'll ever be _born_?"

"It didn't change that much when I brought you back," I argued.

"But, _querida_, you _didn't_ change that much. I was still gone. I just didn't _die_. But if Marilyn didn't die, you have no idea what the consequences would be."

I couldn't think of a retort, so I just crossed my arms and pouted maturely. Jesse sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Susannah, _querida_," he said, far more gently. He scooted his chair closer to mine, and pulled me into his arms. "Don't do it. Don't risk your life that way. I don't know what I'd do if you died, if I lost you," he whispered.

The argument I had in my head forgotten, I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest.

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Later on, after Jesse and I had made out for a while, I went home to finish my homework. Although, once I was up in my room and halfway done with my English paper, I called up Paul.

"Why, Susie. To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked upon picking up.

"I was hoping we could get together later tonight. I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Finally realize _I'm_ the one you wanted all this time? Kick de Silva to the curb?" he asked smoothly. I rolled my eyes.

"Get over yourself, Paul. It's about shifting."

"Of course, Suze. Why don't you come over in an hour?" he said.

"Thanks, Paul. I'll see you then." I hung up, and continued working on my homework.

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An hour later, sure enough, Jake pulled up in front of Paul's house and dropped me off. Paul opened the door, and let me in. Jake drove off, and Paul got me a diet coke and led me to sit down in the living room.

"So, Suze, what's your question?" he asked, sipping his own Coke.

"I want to know more about time travel," I said. "I mean, I know we did it back in November… but that was sort of spur of the moment on my part. And I was just hoping you knew a bit more about it… and the risks involved, and stuff." He looked contemplative.

"Well, there are, of course, risks of brain cell loss. And headaches that hurt like a bitch, but you know about those already, from shifting. But last time, you were fine, so I don't think time travel is such a huge risk for you. Not so much as a regular mediator who does it, or a weaker shifter."

"Mediators can do it? I thought…" I began in confusion, but he interrupted me.

"Well, mediators who do it along side of shifters. Sort of like how we can shift into Shadowland with another spirit, or person, we can shift through time. They're actually pretty similar, just into different dimensions." He paused. "But most of the permanent damage is from repeated time travel. If you do it all the time, you'll end up like my grandpa, who can barely drool without help from Mark. But once or twice _usually_ doesn't leave any lasting effects, except the migraine and maybe a _tiny_ bit of memory loss." I looked at him, startled. "It's very minor. You will just become a typical, forgetful person with a few trips into the past. You know, you'll forget where you put your glasses and misplace stuff all the time. But that's status quo for most people."

"Okay," I said, relieved. Then he got suspicious.

"Why are you asking? You aren't planning to go back for anything, are you?"

"No!" I said quickly. He laughed, and leaned back in his chair across from me.

"Suze, I don't really care, as long as it's for a good reason." He narrowed his eyes. "You don't want to go back for that Marilyn girl, do you? Suze, I mean, she's nice enough, as far as ghosts go, but don't risk it for _her_."

"I'm not doing it for her," I said stubbornly. "I'm doing it for her _and_ Father Dom. For the principle of it. Because it's the right thing to do."

He shook his head, with a smirk on his face. "You're such a philanthropist," he said. "It's going to come back and kick you in the ass one of these days."

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It was so close to 3:00, when the bell would ring. I was jiggling my foot, tapping my pencil, and looking at the lock every 5 seconds. Adam gave me a weird look.

"Waiting for something?" he asked curiously. I forcibly calmed myself down.

"Just anxious to get out of school," I said simply. He nodded.

"Hey, do you and Jesse want to meet Cee Cee and me at the Clutch after school?" I bit my lip.

"Sorry, I can't. I have… stuff to do," I said vaguely. He didn't seem convinced, yet accepted my apologies.

The bell finally rang, and I gathered my things quickly and bolted out the door. I was crossing the courtyard when I spotted a familiar navy blue car, and I quickly left the campus on the other side, to avoid running into Jesse. Hopefully, I would only be gone for about ten minutes, and he wouldn't realize I was gone.

I walked down the street, getting ever nearer to 4th and Sycamore. My heart was speeding up in anticipation.

When I got there, I went into the coffee shop on the corner. The building was built in the mid-1950s, and though the coffee shop opened several years ago, I know it used to be part of a larger department store that took up most of the block.

Hoping for the best, I went in, and found the bathrooms. I had been in here before, and I knew the bathrooms in the coffee shop were original to the building (when I first moved here, Andy gave me the architectural and renovation history of wherever we went—I think I'm the _only_ one in Carmel who knows when they expanded Safeway).

Once I was in there, I put my hand to the wall, closed me eyes, and _concentrated_. Really hard.

I opened my eyes, and looked at my surroundings. The paint on the wall was a light, dusty pink color, and it looked fresher. The sink was new, but an old model. I carefully opened the door, and found myself looking at racks of emerald green belted, silk dresses—not the sparsely populated tables, covered with newspapers and cups of coffee.

I was back. I was in 1959.

I walked through the near empty store, and a saleswoman saw me and jumped. "Sorry, ma'am, I didn't realize anyone was in there," she said, and I smiled weakly, and continued out the door without saying anything.

There was a large clock on the corner of the building, and I saw that it was 3:20. I watched people walk by, analyzing their faces, looking for Marilyn, as a breeze whipped my hair. Nearly 10 minutes passed, until I heard a girlish giggle, and I turned.

Walking down the street were three girls, with saddle shoes, full skirts, and short sleeve sweaters. One girl had cat-eye classes. The girl next to her was unmistakably Marilyn.

As I stood up from the bench and started to approach them, Marilyn's books fell from her arms, and a gust of wind scattered her papers onto Fourth St.

"Oh no!" she cried, and hurried out to get them. Her friends called her back, but I was the only one who saw the black Cadillac speeding down, despite the red light, unable to see her.

Quickly, I set into motion. I darted into the street, grabbed her sweater, and heaved both of us backwards to the curb just as the wheel of the tire shredded her papers against the pavement.

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Okay, I think I'll end this here… Sorry I haven't updated in a few days, but I've just been in this depressed funk all week that I'm still trying to shake (today didn't make it any better), and haven't really been in the mood to write. I hope to get the next chapter up sometime next week.

Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 

We lay there, against the curb, for several seconds in shock. Then one of her friends shrieked.

"Marilyn, Marilyn, are you okay?" she gasped, and the two girls helped us up.

"I'm fine… I think…" she said shakily. "Oh my God." She continued to stare at her ripped papers in the street, then turned to me. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"No problem," I said, shrugging humbly. "Just doing the right thing."

"You could've been _killed_," the girl with the classes said. "Both of you. That was so brave," she said to me.

"What's your name?" Marilyn asked. "I don't recognize you from school."

"I'm Suze," I said. "I'm in town, uh… visiting. Colleges." As this part of my mission was complete, I realized it would be best not to trust fate, and try to get Marilyn and Father Dominic to meet. "Do you think you could show me where St. Francis' is?" She looked at me weird, while her friends giggled.

"You can't go there for college, it's a boy's school."

"Why are you even going to college at all?" one girl asked. "Not around here, anyway. They have girls' only schools, and you can't meet a husband there." I raised my eyebrows at her.

Though, the fact that I said I was touring a boy's college was a bit suspicious.

"I'm, uh, meeting my brother there. He's looking to go," I lied. They stopped giggling.

"Of course," Marilyn said. "Follow me." Her friends told her they needed to get home, so they departed and reiterated that they were glad she didn't die.

We turned onto Sycamore, and walked several blocks. Soon, I saw a familiar gate and walled campus. It was where Jesse would be attending in a few months.

However, missing were the science building, the library, and there was another structure there that was unfamiliar to me.

Between a few buildings was a grassy area--the quad. Around the fountain, there were a few students milling around. I scanned their faces, and couldn't believe my luck.

There, chatting with a few guys, was Father Dominic. I hurried over, and Marilyn followed.

"Father Dom!" I started to shout, but caught myself. "Dominic!" He turned, and looked at me with a polite, but confused look on his face.

"Yes?" I quickly came up with a lie.

"My brother called you a week or so ago, didn't he? We're coming to visit the campus, and you promised him a tour." The puzzled look on his familiar, yet unfamiliar, face intensified.

It was so weird to be talking to a 19-year-old Father Dom, instead of a 65-year old one.

"Your… brother?" Obviously, he was too kind to call me a freaking psycho in the middle of campus, and he played dumb.

"Yes, silly," I said, jokingly, then I leaned close, and dropped my voice to a hush. "I know you're a mediator. I'll explain everything later." His eyes widened in shock, and he gaped for a moment before returning to his senses.

"Oh, of course! I completely forgot. Erm… where is he?" he asked cautiously. He clearly had _no_ clue what was going on.

"He's catching a later train," I said breezily, spinning the lies out easily. I was scarily good at this. "This is my new friend Marilyn, by the way. Marilyn, Dominic. Dominic, Marilyn."

"Hello," she said shyly.

"Hi," he said, with a smile on his face.

_Yes_.

"Hey, why don't we all go out for lunch?" I said brightly. Marilyn raised her eyebrows at me.

"It's nearly four in the afternoon," she pointed out.

"How about tea, then?" I suggested. "Come on, let's go."

Both of them exchanged bemused looks, but followed me nonetheless.

Father Dominic caught up with me, and grabbed my arm and pulled me close, and spoke quickly and quietly in my ear.

"How do you know about me?" I glanced around, and saw that Marilyn was a few paces behind us.

"Because I'm one, too," I whispered back. "I'll explain more later." He looked at me, confused, but I saw that he trusted me.

And that was essential.

Suddenly, I heard someone shout my name.

"Susannah!" I froze. Who knew who I was? This was a good 30 years before I was born!

"Suze! Wait!" I turned, and saw none other than Jesse and Paul chasing after me. It was my turn to be the confused one.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed at them as they caught up with me.

"Susannah, how could you be so stupid?" Jesse asked impatiently. "Why did you do it? You know how dangerous it is!"

I noticed that Marilyn and Father Dom were listening to us, curiously, and I continued my lies.

"Jesse, don't worry. I was fine! The train conductor made sure I was safe. You're so silly, I can travel on a train by myself!" Paul and Jesse both gaped at me. I turned back to Father Dom. "Fath—Dominic, you remember Paul," I began.

"Suze, what are you talking about, he doesn't remember me, he hasn't _met_ me yet," Paul said, but I continued, giving him the evil eye.

"Paul, my _brother_." He shot me an annoyed glace, but Father Dominic caught on quickly.

"Of course, Paul, good to see you," he said, and shook Paul's hand.

I was, obviously, the only one of the bunch who knew what the hell was going on.

"Susannah," Jesse whispered, "what's happening?"

"We're going for tea," I said. "This is Marilyn, everyone." They greeted her politely, as if they hadn't been chatting with her ghost the day before. "Marilyn, this is my boyfriend, Jesse, and my brother, Paul." The grimace on his face made it obvious he did _not_ want to be my brother.

After all, you can't screw your sister and still be cool.

We turned into a random diner, and we all sat down at a big booth. We took a look at the menus, and I was astonished at the prices. No sandwich was over a dollar, and most drinks were less than ten cents.

We ordered some food—Marilyn still seemed a bit unsure as to why she was even here—and Jesse kept shooting me glances, which clearly said, _You have some explaining to do_, while I ignored them.

Just as I expected, once the slightly awkward conversation started rolling, Marilyn and Dom hit it off right away. They were laughing, joking, and having a grand old time. I slipped my hand into Jesse's and squeezed it. He rolled his eyes, but I could tell he didn't really mean it.

After about an hour of hanging out, Marilyn caught sight of the clock on the wall, and gasped.

"Oh, no. I told my mother I'd be home by four!" she gasped, and quickly began gathering her books.

"I'll drive you," Father Dom offered. "If we walk back to campus, I'll grab my car and take you home."

"Wonderful!" I exclaimed. "Excellent idea. Jesse and Paul and I had best be going, as well. I'm glad you didn't die, Marilyn. We'll see you guys later." I put some of the change I had in my pocket on the table to pay for my meal (hopefully, the waitress wouldn't realize the quarters were from 30 years in the future), and I quickly ushered Paul and Jesse out of the diner and around the corner.

"Suze, what the _fuck_ are you doing?" Paul asked as soon as we got out of hearing distance of Dom and Marilyn. Jesse made a noise of disgust at his use of the f-bomb. "Parading around, having dinner with people? Playing matchmaker for a priest? Making me your goddamn _brother_?"

"Relax," I said, rolling my eyes. "Let's just go back to where we belong." We were walking to a more secluded area where we could, well, travel forward in time without getting any weird looks, when I turned to Jesse. "How did you know where I was, anyway?" He laughed.

"Susannah, you are not entirely unpredictable. I saw you run away from me when school ended yesterday, and I followed you into the coffee shop. When you never came out of the bathroom, I got Paul, and he told me you were fairly intent in going back. And, for your own safety, we thought it best to come back and get you."

"You _followed_ me?" I gasped. And I thought I was a relatively observant person. How could I not notice being tailed?

"Yes, Susannah." Jesse looked around. We were on the edge of a park. "Paul, will a tree serve to shift us back?" He nodded.

"Sure, whatever," he said, and we went over to a tree that looked sort of familiar, and we all put a hand on it (and Jesse grabbed my arm, as well).

I closed my eyes, and concentrated, and went to shift.

I opened my eyes slowly, and saw Jesse and Paul doing the same. I looked around, and realized…

Nothing had changed.

We were still in 1959.

"Why didn't it work?" I asked Paul nervously. Jesse was muttering something in Spanish under his breath. I didn't bother asking him to translate. I knew he wouldn't.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I guess, let's just try again. Maybe we need to concentrate harder."

We did as he said, but still, nothing happened. I was beginning to get anxious.

"Maybe it's the tree," Jesse said hopefully. "We will try something else." We quickly moved over to a building that was now an art gallery. We pressed ourselves to the wall, and shifted…

And still, nothing changed.

"Damn it," Paul muttered, running his hand through his hair. "There must me some sort of block. We can't shift."

"What are we supposed to do?" I asked, unable to keep a frightened shrill out of my voice.

"I guess we just have to hang out here until we can go back."

Jesse started muttering again.

"What do you propose we do, Paul?" he said, speaking at a normal level of voice—and in English. He shrugged.

"I don't know. It's your fault, Suze. What should we do, genius?" he asked. I gasped, my pride wounded.

"_My_ fault? Because _I_ put up that astral block or whatever?" He rolled his eyes.

"No, but we wouldn't be stuck in 1959 if you didn't decide it was your sacred duty to make a priest and a goddamn ghost fall in love!" he shouted back.

"Enough!" Jesse bellowed. I swallowed my retort and kept silent. "Fighting isn't going to get us anywhere. Let's go find Father Dominic and Marilyn, and find a place to stay for the night." We agreed, and hurried back to campus in hopes of catching them before they drove off.

Luck was on our side, and we saw them in the student parking lot.

"Dominic!" I cried. "Marilyn!" They turned, and we caught up to them.

"I thought you left," Marilyn said.

"Uh, change of plans," I said weakly. "Looks like we're stuck in Carmel for a couple of days… do you know of somewhere we could stay?" Father Dom thought.

"You can't stay in the dorms. They don't allow more than one guest—and no girls, either," he said, eyeing me.

"And my mother will _never_ let strangers stay over night," Marilyn said, her eyes wide. "Especially strange _boys_."

"Do you know of a hotel anywhere?" Jesse asked hopelessly. They looked at each other, and considered.

"Monterrey Motel is about a mile from here. It's not exactly the Ritz, but it's about twenty-five bucks a night and you can expect it to be clean, which is more than you can say about some places," Dom said. "My parents stayed there when we moved me into the dorm."

"That's great," Jesse said, relieved. "Where is it?"

We got directions, and bid them farewell, and we set off down the slowly emptying streets of Carmel. The sun was setting, and the water visible was glistening red and orange.

We arrived at the motel at dark, and luckily, there was a family room with two full-size beds, which we took.

"How about Suze and I share a bed, and de Silva can have one of his own?" Paul suggested as we unlocked the door.

"Not on your life, Slater," Jesse growled.

"And I'll assume _you_ two won't be sharing," I said sarcastically, "So Jesse and I will share."

"Are you okay with that?" Jesse asked me quietly, taking my hand. "If you want, I'll sleep on the floor. I don't want to make you feel…" he began but I silenced him with a kiss, which Paul scoffed at.

"Don't worry about it, I can handle it," I grinned, then took off my sweater to reveal a tank top, which would have to serve as makeshift pajamas. I considered whether or not Jesse would be uncomfortable if I took off my skirt, too, and just slept in my underwear. Somehow, though, I think he'll find that inappropriate.

"How much money do we have?" I asked, and Paul and Jesse both pulled out their wallets.

"I have… $37," Jesse said, counting.

"And I've got $62," Paul said, and I gave him a weird look.

"You brought $62 with you to school?" He shrugged nonchalantly. I emptied my pockets.

"I have another $13," I said.

"So, all together, we've got… $112," Jesse said, astounding me with his mental math skills. "That will get us about four nights."

"Do you think that's enough time?" I asked. "I mean, for the universe to unblock itself?" Paul shrugged.

"Who knows? Maybe we'll be able to go back in five minutes. But something tells me there's more to this than just a random malfunction of the universe."

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And the plot thickens.

I know I rarely reply to reviews, but I just want to thank all of you for responding so kindly to my story. I hope you're enjoying it.

And please, continue reviewing!


	6. Chapter 6

Again, I'm sorry I never reply to my reviewers, but you are all very much appreciated. I'm glad you are all enjoying the story!

On a correctional note, I was hoping to get around a little historical inconsistency, but the ever-alert Steph pointed out that there is no way someone from 1959 would accept modern-day money without laughing in their faces. So, for this little fan fic, I am going to pretend that when they went back in time, so did their money. How remarkably convenient, no?

Chapter 6

I woke up the next morning with my leg against someone else's leg. I jumped up, disoriented. Was some psycho rapist in my bed?

Then I looked around, and saw a sleeping Jesse next to me, shirtless (I has forgotten, I was wearing his shirt to sleep in). I looked around, and saw a small table between the beds with a lamp on it. On the opposite wall was a dresser, with a large radio on top. A small TV was also there, with two big dials on the side. In the bed a foot and a half to my right, was Paul.

There was a knock on the door, and I quickly stood up and stumbled over and opened it. Dominic stood there.

"Good morning, Dom," I said sleepily, rubbing my eyes. He didn't say anything back, and I noticed he was gaping at me with a shocked, practically terrified, expression. I looked down, and realized that I hadn't put my skirt back on and Jesse's shirt hit me mid-thigh.

Which isn't a huge deal in 2006, but in 1959, it was a bit scandalous.

"Oh!" I said, embarrassed. "Sorry. Hold on, let me get dressed." I quickly closed the door, and threw on my clothes from the day before. Paul evidently heard me, and woke up.

He looked around tiredly, and asked, "Suze, what's going on?"

"Dominic is here," I said, straightening my skirt and buttoning the small button above the zipper. I opened the door, and closed it behind me.

"Let's go down and get breakfast, and we'll talk," I said." He nodded, and we walked down the hallway and into the restaurant, where there was a table with baskets of muffins and pitchers of juice. I eyed the blueberry ones suspiciously, certain they had at least 100 fat calories each, but I grabbed one anyway. I was starving.

"Do you want one?" I asked Dominic, and he shook his head.

"Good Friday. I'm fasting." He looked almost embarrassed to be admitting that. I couldn't help but be reminded of Mary, a girl in my grade, who always proudly gets her ashes before school, so everyone can see that she went to mass, and who always made a huge deal about fasting and giving up stuff for Lent.

I hated her.

Dominic led me to a table in the corner. A few people were in there with us, but they were mostly reading newspapers.

"Don't you have class or something?" I asked. I glanced at a clock, and saw that it was about 9:30. He shook his head.

"Not for another hour. I wanted to talk to you, though. In private." I sat back and didn't say anything, inviting him to continue. "I want to know how you knew about… me." I sighed, an internal debate raging.

Should I tell him I was from the future? Or not? After a moment, I decided to take the plunge.

"I'm a mediator too. Actually, I'm… more than a mediator." I lowered my voice, and leaned toward him. "I'm from the future." He shot backward, nearly knocking his chair over.

"What? No. What are you talking about?" he asked, a bit frightened. I sighed.

"I know it sounds crazy, but so does seeing ghosts to some people. Listen, you'll just have to trust me." He had a troubled look on his face.

"I don't believe this. It's absurd. It's impossible…" he said. "You… I don't know."

"Listen," I said, nervously, "you don't have to necessarily believe everything I tell you. You just need to trust me."

It was a long moment before he replied, uncertainly, "I will try." As he said this, a still-tired looking Paul and a more alert (and annoyed) looking Jesse approached us, and pulled over a few chairs, while Paul went to go get breakfast. I couldn't help but stare.

Honestly. Jesse was just _so_ hot. I still couldn't get over it, even after dating him for 6 months.

"You had to leave me with him?" Jesse mumbled in my ear, and I grinned.

"Sorry," I apologized, and he sat down and I quickly squeezed his knee affectionately under the table.

"The time he spends in front of a mirror, fixing with his hair…" Jesse muttered, and I laughed. Paul sat down.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You," I said frankly, and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Glad I'm entertaining you," he said smoothly, and I rolled my eyes. I gave Jesse the other half of my muffin, which he ate gratefully.

"So, anyway, Dominic," I said, turning my attention back to him (and stifling my urge to call him 'Father'), "what did you think of Marilyn?" His previously apprehensive and hesitant face melted into a contented smile.

"She's very nice," he said. "I like her quite a bit." I gave an "I-told-you-so" smirk to Jesse and Paul. "In fact, I'm getting together with her this afternoon, after school. We're going to take a walk on the beach."

"How lovely," I said. "Magnificent." His exuberant smile weakened a bit, and he looked at me a bit suspiciously.

"Why are you so interested?" he asked. I feigned naïveté.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said simply. Dominic glanced over at a large clock on the wall.

"Gosh, I have to get going. I have class in twenty minutes," he said, and stood up, putting on his jacket.

"Thanks for stopping by," I said. "Maybe we can talk again soon."

"Of course," he said, and left.

"See? Everything is turning out beautifully," I said to them, with a trace of smugness. Jesse ran his hand through his hair.

"Maybe with Dominic and Marilyn, but we still haven't figured out a way home," he said, puncturing my elated mood.

"Oh yeah," I said glumly. "Well, have you tried it this morning?" Jesse nodded.

"Up in the hotel room," Paul said. "I tried to go back. If it worked, Jesse was going to go and get you and you two would shift back together. But obviously, I'm still here." I sighed.

"Well, there really isn't much we can do, is there?" I said.

Suddenly, I became very aware that Jesse, whose hand was resting along the hem of my knee-length skirt, was absentmindedly making delicate circles and shapes with the tips of his fingers on the inside of my knee.

Very rapidly, breathing became an issue. I zoned out of what Jesse was saying, and instead focused on the marvelous things he was doing with his fingers.

"Susannah?" Jesse said, looking at me.

"Yes?" I breathed. He gave me a weird look.

"Are you okay?" I took a deep breath.

"Of course." He still looked a bit uncertain.

"I had said that we should probably spend the day trying to research what is keeping us from shifting back. We'll go to the library. Does that sound okay?" I nodded.

"Of course. But I, um, need something from the room… do you want to come with me?" I said, giving him a significant look. Jesse looked perplexed, but nodded.

"We'll meet you out front in about five minutes," Jesse said to Paul, and we stood up (unfortunately, that meant he took his hand from my leg), and headed toward the hotel room.

As Jesse held the door open for me, he began to ask, "Susannah, what did you forget?" But as soon as the door closed, my lips were against his and my arms were wrapped around his back.

He kissed me back, deeply, for several moments before he came up for air. "_Querida,_" he panted, "What are you doing?"

"I still have to properly say good morning," I whispered, and ran my hands up his torso. I slipped one of them through the buttons of his shirt, and gently brushed my fingers against a very sensitive part of his chest.

Almost immediately, I found my back against the wall. One of Jesse's hands was behind my head, cradling it, while the other was at the small of my back, pressing me closer to him.

"Good morning, _querida_," he whispered hoarsely as he placed tiny kisses around my ear. I shivered delightfully.

He pressed one knee between mine, and my leg wrapped around his. He started trailing his kisses from my lips, down my neck, and he caressed the pressure points gently with his mouth. I sighed, and held his head against me.

In the corner of my brain, a door opening registered, but that realization didn't carry through to my reasoning.

"Eurgh! For God's sake!" Jesse tore his lips from my throat, and we turned to the source of the voice.

Paul.

I untangled myself from Jesse and straightened my skirt and sweater. Jesse did the same to his shirt.

"Can you two go _five minutes_ without trying to boff? Honestly!" Paul exclaimed. I rolled my eyes.

"Chill out," I said. "Like you haven't done way more than that with Kelly in the courtyard during lunch. Come on, are we going to go to the library or not?"

Paul stalked out of the room in a huff, and I began to follow him when Jesse asked, "Wait, didn't you need to grab something?" I turned and grinned.

"No." He gave me a small smile and grabbed my hand, then we followed Paul out of the room.

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Okay, I know that was pretty short… I just figured I'd give you something, rather than nothing.

Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

Okay. So I've had pretty major writer's block, then my computer crashed. I almost lost it all, but managed to savesomedocuments to floppys. Anyway, I think most of you know the story, so I'm just going to apologize for the wait, and tell you to enjoy.

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Chapter Seven

We arrived at the library just as it was opening. The outside looked mostly familiar, though very new—the bricks were a bright, crisp red, unlike the weather-worn, graying building I was used to. Inside, however, was a different story.

The computer stations, the sunny windows, and new modern bookshelves were gone. Tall, cramped, dark wooden shelves lined the walls and stood against each other on the floor. Several tables made up a study area, with a large, old-fashioned (though probably modern for them) globe stood nearby. Against one wall stood what looked like a really big dresser, but upon closer inspection, discovered many small, 3-by-5 inch drawers labeled alphabetically. I realized it was a card catalog.

"Let's go," Jesse whispered appropriately, taking my elbow and guiding me to the circulation desk (which was just a simple wooden desk, with a canister of pencils and a stamp and ink pad). "We should ask the librarian for help."

"Hello, ma'am?" I said politely. The woman looked up and peered at me through her glasses.

"Yes? What can I help you children with?" I was a tad miffed about being called a child, but then Jesse butted in.

"We're looking for books on ghosts and time travel," he said. "Perhaps a study on Egyptian shamanism?" She looked skeptical and suspicious.

"Most libraries don't have books with that sort of heresy. Perhaps you should look elsewhere." I was discouraged, but then Paul worked his magic.

" 'Miss Barbara Nolan, Librarian,'" he read from her name plate. "That's a very pretty name, for a pretty lady. Do you mind if I call you Barbara?" She giggled.

She _giggled_. I swear. Is all of the female gender so subject to simple flattery?

Then again, I would eat glass from Jesse's palm if he asked me to do so and called me _querida_.

"No, Barbara is fine," she said with a smile on her face. Paul gave her a bright, winning grin back.

"Now, Barbara, I'm sure you have something to help us, right?" he said. "Some book kept in the back?" She bit her lip.

"Well, we do get some books by some local expert on this sort of stuff. We don't usually put it out, because the church groups get upset, and no one reads them anyway." She disappeared into a back room, and came out with 3 volumes, and a small paperback pamphlet. "Here you go." Jesse and I gratefully unloaded her of the books, and Paul touched her chin lightly, a move that was too intimate to be casual, but too casual to be intimate.

"You're a lifesaver, Barbara. Thanks so much." Then he took a book from me, and we retreated to the desk.

"What the hell was that?" I asked Paul once we were out of earshot of a very flustered, blushing Barbara. "You've moved past high schools and onto seducing librarians?"

"Hey, it got us the information," he said defensively, dropping his smooth-operator act in favor of the tomes in front of is.

"Hopefully," Jesse said, as we all opened the books at random and didn't even bother looking at the covers. I skimmed the table of contents of the book I had grabbed. Suddenly, I felt a very strange sense of déjà vu.

"Paul, these are some of the books you have," I said, and I looked at the cover again. "Look, they're by your grandfather." Both Paul and Jesse flipped to the front of the book at the same time.

"Holy shit," Paul said. "You're right."

"You've read them" Jesse said. "Do they have something that might tell us why we're being stuck in the past?" Paul concentrated, a knot furrowing in his brow.

"Not specifically, I don't think. I don't remember anything like that. I think I would have noticed if it mentioned getting trapped in time." We gave him several more seconds to think, then he reached over to the book I had. "Let me see this." He began turning pages to a chapter in the middle of the book, then tracing the lines carefully.

"Let's see… this isn't specific, but it gives us a bit of a clue. _Inscriptions on the walls of the tomb of Tefnakhte indicate that occasionally, when the shamans returned to previous dynasties and the times of other pharaohs, they failed to return for many moons. Though they did not know the cause of this entrapment, it was noted that when they did return, the present was unchanged from when they shifted._"

"Hmm…" Jesse said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Well, that's something to go on." For the rest of the day, we read and read and read and read, to no avail.

When it was nearly three, our heads hurt, our eyes were dry, and things were blurring together from studying the small print so carefully. I was dreadfully hungry, and I had sustained several paper cuts in my feverish page-turning.

"Let's go," I said, sighing. "I read this entire book. I re-read any part that had any mention of 'time,' and there is nothing other than that one ambiguous paragraph Paul found 6 hours ago." Jesse stretched, cracking his knuckles over his head and arching his back over the chair (making his shirt ride up, affording me a peek at this slender hips, muscular stomach, and that oh-so-tempting strip of black hair against his tan skin dipping below the line of his pants. I now truly understand the phrase "a sight for sore eyes.")

"Yes, let's," Paul said, rubbing his face. "Let's see if we can check these out, though. Maybe if you two disappear again to screw each other, I can actually get some work done."

"Hey!" I protested, as Jesse made a noise in his throat. "We've been working just as hard as you have! Stop being such an asshole!" An elderly librarian shelving books—not Barbara—overheard me, and gasped audibly and gave me an eye so evil, I was afraid I'd drop dead on the spot.

"Let's get out of here," Jesse muttered, seeing that we were angering the staff. Paul took the books to Barbara (still sitting dutifully at the circulation desk) and managed to convince her to let us borrow the books without a valid library card (though, actually, Jesse had his in his pocket, and even had his barcode memorized—but that didn't help us much.)

He met Jesse and me outside, where we let our tired eyes adjust to the spring sunshine, and walked down the street to find some food.

As we turned onto Sycamore, I heard a voice calling my name. I turned, and saw Marilyn scampering up the street toward us.

"Hello, Marilyn," I said. "How are you?"

"Really well, thanks," she said. "I just got out of school. I'm actually meeting Dominic at the beach in a few minutes. Do you want to come with us?" she asked.

"Oh, no," I said, politely refusing. "We wouldn't want to intrude."

"Actually," she said, "it would be best if you did come. I'm not going to say anything, but my mother was very upset when she saw that a boy had driven be home, all alone. She doesn't want me to be alone with him. So if you three are there, at least there's other people—and another girl—so I don't get in trouble."

"Sure," Paul said, shrugging.

"But we'll stay out of your way," I said. "Give you two space to talk and such." She grinned.

"Great!" We walked to a public beach that I knew well—by reputation. It was one of those places where some teenagers went at night and drank (and left beer cans all over the place), had sex, and smoked. Needless to say, it was one of the low points of Carmel scenery, and nary a respectable family graced its beaches.

The sand was still clean and pristine, though, and there were several young families on the beach, a couple of guys tossing a football back and forth casually, and two girls walking arm-in-arm. Against his car in the parking lot was Father Dom. He looked surprised to see the three of us with Marilyn, but not upset. He simply wasn't expecting us.

"Hello!" he greeted cheerfully, though he did look pretty hungry.

"Hi, Fa… Dominic," I said, catching my slip quickly. "I hope you don't mind us joining you."

"Not at all," he said, and led us onto the sand. I slipped off my shoes, and the others followed suit. While Marilyn and Dominic led a more leisurely walk up closer to the dunes, I towed Jesse and Paul with me more quickly, and in the waves.

I subtly watched them over my shoulder, and was agog at their connection. I elbowed Jesse, who also turned quickly to see them talking happily.

"I know, I know," Jesse sighed, and I took his hand and squeezed gently.

We continued walking for a while, the three of us in relative silence and Dom and Marilyn chatting excitedly, until suddenly Paul poked my side.

"Don't get so comfortable up on your high horse, Suze," he said, jerking his head back to them. "Something's wrong."

Forgetting all subtlety, I whipped around and stared unabashedly at the couple. They had turned around, and were walking side by side in a silence so cold even I had the chills.

"Let's go," I said, pulling the two guys around with me and heading back to the parking lot. We caught up to them as they were putting their shoes back on. Jesse, Paul, and I did the same. No one said a word.

Until, awkwardly, Dominic opened his car door, and turned back to us. "Good bye, Susannah. Paul, Jesse," he said, nodding to them. Then he paused. "Good bye, Marilyn." Then he got into his car, and drove off. Marilyn sunk onto a bench, looking both forlorn and indignant.

What had gone wrong?

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Okay, it's short. But it's something.

Review, please!


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, guys. I wrote some of this while I was at a leadership thing this weekend, so I finally got it up. I forget when I last updated, but I know it's been a while, so thanks for being patient.

School's out in three days—hopefully I'll have more time to update when I have nothing to do with my life.

Enjoy, kids. Don't forget to review.

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I hurried over to where Marilyn had sat down. "What happened?" I asked, sitting next to her. She shrugged. She looked confused and unhappy.

"I don't know. We were just talking, and then he suddenly got very quiet."

"What were you talking about?" Jesse asked.

"Well, he asked if I wanted to come to mass with him, at the Mission. I said no, and he got pretty upset."

"That's it?" I said, perplexed. I looked at Jesse. "Why did that upset him so much? I mean, I don't like to go to church when I don't have to, but--" I began, but Marilyn interrupted me.

"It's not that I just don't want to go," she said. "I'd love to spend more time with him. But I'm not Catholic. I don't believe in God." I couldn't help it. I was shocked.

"You're an atheist?" Paul asked, curiously. "Didn't see that one coming." She shrugged.

"I guess I haven't always been. My mother has never really gone to church. She used to, I guess, when I was little, to appease my father. Daddy was very religious. So was Jacqueline, my older sister. They went to mass every morning, did the reconciliation thing once a week, and prayed every night. Jackie was in her second year at the convent back in Massachusetts, where we used to live. They were the most loving, just, and compassionate people I've ever known. But when a bunch of crazy men hijacked the bus they were taking to a retreat in Boston, they still shot my father, and raped and stabbed my sister, along with ten other people on the bus going to the same place. All of them were kind, religious people." Even Paul had the sense to remain respectfully silent.

"Marilyn… I'm so sorry," I said slowly.

"Thanks," she said simply. "That was a long time ago. But I simply can't believe that their God would let that happen to such good people, to His most devout followers." I could see the sermon in Jesse's eyes, about how God gave us free will and He has no control over the evil things people do, but I was relieved that he kept silent and simply squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"You told him this?" Paul asked, bringing the subject away from her family tragedy. She nodded. "No wonder he was upset. He's a priest!" Her eyes flew open in shock.

"He's a _priest_? But… but… no he isn't! He can't be!" With a swift kick and a sharp glare, I silently scolded Paul.

"He's not a priest," I said. "Paul's exaggerating. He just means that Dominic is very, um, pious." She looked relieved, if not entirely certain.

"Listen… how about we try to see what upset him so much?" I offered. Marilyn looked at me curiously.

"Why do you care so much? Not that I'm not grateful. It's just that, well, I just met you yesterday, and you're so involved in my life." I saw Paul turn a laugh into a cough, and I glared.

"Oh, no particular reason," I said nervously. "I just… see the potential you and Dominic have. What can I say? I'm a romantic."

"Oh," she said, still somewhat hesitant. Then she looked at her wrist, and cringed. "I've got to go; my mom is expecting me home." She stood up, and brushed off her skirt. "Thanks! Bye!" She hurried out of the parking lot, and headed down the street toward her house.

"I can't believe Father Dom dumped her because she's an atheist," I said, once she was no longer visible. "That's so unlike him." Jesse shrugged, and took my hand in his.

"Susannah, you only really know the elderly Father Dominic, principal and teacher. This is 19-year-old Dominic, a college student who is growing up in a time that is not as hospitable to different religious—or lack thereof. Everyone gets wiser as they get older."

"Usually," Paul butted in. "I know some pretty stupid old people."

"Like your grandfather?" I said sarcastically, but he missed it.

"Exactly," he said seriously. I rolled my eyes.

In the distance, we heard the bells of the Mission chiming. Paul had opened his mouth, but Jesse silenced him with a hand. We waited, and then when the bells stopped ringing, Jesse spoke.

"It's almost five o'clock. That's when the mass is, for Good Friday. I think Dominic is there now… maybe we can head over and catch him after mass." We agreed, and got up and started walking toward the Mission.

When we got there, the mass wasn't nearly over (they were still in the middle of the reading of the Passion), and we were hungry, so we went to a diner across the street.

Paul ordered himself the largest burger and coke, while Jesse and I ordered more modest turkey clubs. However, he was surprised to find that his meal was considerably smaller than what he was expecting—and his coke couldn't have been more than eight ounces.

All during the meal, Jesse and Paul sparred back and forth, exchanging insults and eye rolls—which is typical when they have to spend more than 20 minutes together, and they'd been stuck together for 24 hours.

I must have been pretty quiet, because as soon as Paul stood up to go to the bathroom, Jesse scooted his chair closer to mine, took my hand, and gently pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Yea," I said, with a smile. I sighed. "I'm just worried about Dominic and Marilyn. I mean, what if all of this ends up being for nothing?"

"Don't worry, Susannah," he said, squeezing my hand. "Nothing you do is worthless." Everyone else in the diner had evaporated, so I leaned over and kissed him. I held his face in my hands and closed my eyes, opening my mouth against his. We continued like this for several blissful moments until a shocked group of preteen girls with a distressed mother gasped, and giggled while their chaperone cleared her throat loudly and pointedly with a stern, disapproving expression on her face. I guess I couldn't blame her—it was pretty intense. And, judging my Jesse's red face and awkward shifting, he felt the same way.

Paul returned, and we finished eating, paid, and headed back to the mission in hopes the mass had let out.

We were in luck—after only a few minutes, a few people began exiting the church. We waited until it seemed no one else was in there, but Dominic still hadn't left. We went in quietly, and Jesse crossed himself with the holy water in the marble dishes at the door.

In one of the front pews, we saw the figure of a young man, knelt in prayer, and upon closer inspection, it was clearly Dominic. We waited another two minutes, and then he crossed himself, stood up, and headed to the rear of the church.

He was surprised to see us. "What are you doing here?" he asked as we walked outside, but not rudely.

"We wanted to talk to you," Paul said. Dominic nodded, and gestured down the familiar path to the cemetery. We sat down on a bench that stood on the piece of grass where, 45 years later, Jesse's body would be buried. Jesse was clearly a bit uncomfortable, even if he was alive and the body wasn't even buried there.

"What do you need to talk to me about?" he asked.

"Marilyn," I said, and his face saddened. "She said you, uh, ended y our friendship because she doesn't have the same religious beliefs as you," I continued bluntly. He sighed, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Shockingly, he pulled one out, struck a match, and inhaled. "What are you doing? You don't smoke. Those will kill you."

"What?"

"Never mind." I returned to the original subject. "Marilyn."

"Marilyn," he repeated unhappily. "You're misrepresenting what happened. Or, rather, you're not taking into account my perspective."

"How about you explain?" Jesse pressed, and Dominic blew out a puff of smoke.

"I really, really like her. A lot. I know this sounds crazy, but I think I love her. Is it crazy to love someone so quickly?"

"No," Jesse said, glancing at me.

"And, it's not a 'difference' in religious beliefs. It's her lack of them. My religion is so important to me, and I need to start finding who I want to spend the rest of my life with. It was very quick, but I thought she could have been a possibility."

"'Could have?' Past tense?" Paul asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"As hard as it is now, I know that I cannot spend the rest of my life with someone who thinks that what I base my life on is an elaborate myth."

"Did she explain why she felt that way?" I asked. The wrinkle in his brow answered my question, and I told him the story about her father and sister. Afterwards, he looked distressed.

"I had no idea," he said. "She didn't say anything. I didn't ask…"

"Maybe her reason makes up for the disagreement? Can you fault her?" Jesse asked. Dominic considered.

"I would like to speak to her about this," he said slowly. "I was wrong to judge her so quickly." I hid a grin. Success!

"You should talk to her," Paul assed, and just let her know that you understand. But don't let her know that you know the whole story—let her tell you." He nodded.

"Thank you," he said, standing up. I need to think about some things. Have a good evening, and if I don't see you, have a wonderful Easter." Then he left.

The sun was low in the sky, so Jesse, Paul, and I thought it would be best to return to our hotel, and maybe do some more reading. Now that we had fixed this problem, we had to focus again on getting home.

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Further reading of the books didn't get us anywhere new. It was getting late, and we still had no idea why we were stuck here. It was clear Paul was really frustrated with it all. He was used to knowing everything—he hated being in the dark. It was about ten o'clock when he stood up suddenly, and said simply, "I'm going for a walk." Then he left.

"I'm beat," I said. "I think I'm going to go to bed. You?" He nodded, and pulled off his shirt. He tossed it to me, as it was my pajamas at the moment, and turned his back while I took off my skirt and blouse and slipped on his shirt.

He crawled onto the bed, and I followed him. Suddenly, I was very overcome with his bare chest and back. He settled onto the pillows, and closed his eyes. But I had other plans.

I crawled on top of him, causing his lids to flutter open, and take in the sight of me, lying on his chest, with my knees on either side of his thighs. His arms went behind his head, in a very relaxed position, and grinned lazily.

"I thought you were tired," he teased, his eyes glancing down at me. I smiled.

"Not anymore." Then I leaned down, and pressed my lips to his collar bone, and neck, and jaw, and then finally his mouth. His hands came to my waist, and he kissed my back with just as much emotion and passion as I had given him.

My lips trailed back down his neck, feeling his rising pulse beneath my lips. Then further down, to his chest. I could vaguely hear his labored breathing, and his hands slid up the sides of my body to my head, which he held gently through my hair.

He pulled my back up to his face, where he gave me a mind-blowing kiss. I was suddenly very aware of how I was sitting, and needed more. Jesse's hands left my face, and slipped back down to my waist, and then went under my shirt (his shirt, actually) and trailed up my sides, grazing my skin. I heard him gasp, surprised, when his hands went to my chest and discovered I was braless. Well, I had been planning on going to sleep.

While one hand gave me immeasurable pleasure, the other went back down to my waist, and caressed it gently. His mouth went down my face and onto my neck, and sucked gently. I couldn't breathe, it felt so good.

However, shortly after Jesse began flirting with the hem of my underwear, he came to his senses and realized he was contemplating pulling off my panties, when he already had my shirt hiked up well past decency's level, and I was straddling his waist.

He gently pulled away, pulled the shirt back down to cover my thighs, and lifted me off of him. His breathing was heavy and irregular, as was mine.

"Susannah, no," he said gently but insistently. "Not now." I sighed, adjusted my shirt, and settled back down under the covers.

"Okay." Then I kissed his forehead, and said, "I guess I'll go to bed now." He nodded.

"Actually, I, er, think I'll take a shower, if you don't mind." He climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom, and I hid a grin as I heard the water start running. _Cold_ water, I assumed.

I was half asleep when I felt his side of the bed dip down, and I twisted around as he climbed under the covers.

"Good night, _querida_," he said, and gave me a light, gentle kiss.

"Good night," I replied, and snuggled against him and tried to fall asleep.

However, sleep wasn't in the immediate future, because as soon as I dozed off, Paul stormed back in, and shook me awake.

"Suze! Suze, wake up!" he hissed. I looked at him blearily.

"What?" I asked.

"I think I figured it out. I think I know how we can shift back home."

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Okay. Hope you enjoy the fluff I threw in there, just for the hell of it. Review, _por favor_.


	9. Chapter 9

"_Suze! Suze, wake up!" he hissed. I looked at him blearily._

"_What?" I asked._

"_I think I figured it out. I think I know how we can shift back home."_

I sat up quickly, disturbing Jesse slightly, who groaned and rolled over, still asleep.

"What are you talking about?" I asked in a whisper. "Where were you for so long?" He shrugged.

"Well, I knew as soon as I was gone, you and de Silva would try to hook up, and I'd prefer not to repeat the incident this morning—and you two were both _clothed_ then. So I took an extra long walk, going over everything we learned today."

"And you came to some revelation?" I asked. He nodded.

"My grandfather lives in Carmel. Probably not where he lives now, but Barbara said he was a 'local writer.'"

"Your precious Barbara," I said under my breath, and he glared at me, but ignored the comment.

"We just go find him, tell him our problem, and he'll help us solve it." I paused. It made sense.

I leaned over to Jesse, and shook him awake. "Mmm? Wha?" he mumbled, before taking sight of me and Paul. "What?"

"Paul was thinking," I began, and continued too quickly to allow Jesse to get in the clichéd insult that always followed that line, "Dr. Slaski probably lives around here. If we can find him, he can help us figure out a way home." He sat up, and processed it. "It seems like the perfect idea, don't you think?" He narrowed his eyes.

"If you think it's a good idea, there's bound to be something terrible that will happen and you will wind up in the hospital." Paul snorted, and I glowered.

"That's not fair!" I cried. "Everything I've done was a good idea." Jesse opened his mouth, and I could see he was about to recite every stupid thing I've done since I'd met him. I decided not to relive those moments. "Fine, if my approval instantly warrants your condemnation, what's so bad about the plan? Huh?"

He sighed, and glanced at Paul. "Well, honestly, it _does _sound okay."

"Ha!" I exclaimed smugly. Jesse ignored me.

"Let's go, then!" Paul said. "There's got to be a phone book in the lobby, we can look him up and then-"

"Paul," Jesse said tiredly, "It's late. It is extraordinarily rude to knock on strangers' doors past midnight."

"But he's Paul's grandpa," I began, before realizing that Dr. Slaski probably hadn't even had Paul's father yet, and would probably not welcome an unborn grandson into his home at odd hours of the night. "Never mind."

"Let's go to bed, and we'll find him in the morning," Paul said. He took off his own shirt and climbed into his bed. I leaned over, switched off the light, and snuggled back into bed next to Jesse, dreaming of being back home. Soon… it would be so soon.

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The next morning, during breakfast, Paul borrowed a phone book from the payphone in the lobby, and set it on our table and combed through it, looking both under "Slaski" and "Slater." There were a fair number of Slaters, but only one Slaski, O., located at 157 Mountain View Avenue. In the Carmel as I knew it, that area was a bit sleazy and run down, but Jesse told me that it used to be a wealthy, but modest, area.

It was clear he was correct when we wandered onto Mountain View. The houses weren't necessarily large, but well kept and comfortable. We walked for several blocks until we came upon number 157.

It was painted off white, with a wrap-around porch. No blossoming flowers overflowed from the garden beds, but it did not appear to be the home of a man who regularly spoke to the dead and traveled through time.

Then again, did I seem like that sort of person?

Paul took the initiative, and climbed the steps and knocked the doorknocker. We waited several minutes, and then he knocked again. Another moment later, the curtain of the window on the door moved aside, and a face flashed before it returned, and the door cracked open.

"Yes? What do you want?"

"Are you Dr. Slaski?" Paul asked as a formality. Even if his face was half concealed, as a younger man, he was a spitting image of his son.

"What do you want?" he repeated rudely. Jesse and I exchanged worried glances.

"We need your help. With… shifting." His eyes narrowed, and he looked angry.

"I don't need any more of you damn skeptics trying to prank me," he barked, then started to close the door.

"Wait!" I cried, sticking my foot in. "It's true! We're stuck here. We traveled back in time, and now we can't go back."

"We know you're a shifter, and a powerful one at that. We need to figure out how to go back home, and you're our only hope," Paul said.

The door stopped squeezing my foot, and after another moment, opened slightly.

"Fine, fine… come in. But if you turn out to be just tricking me for a laugh, I'll call the police and have you all arrested for trespassing." We slipped through the door.

The house inside was in slight disarray, with open books and notebooks spread on the coffee table and end tables next to the couch, and several old-looking photographs spread across the kitchen table.

When I wandered over, I realized they were black and white pictures of hieroglyphics. "Are these from Egypt?" I asked. He looked at where my gaze was, and replied gruffly, "Yes. From the tomb of a very powerful priest."

"What do they say?" Jesse asked, as he came to my side and peered at the photos.

"They tell the story of one of the ghosts he dealt with. The spirit of the Pharaoh's son. It says that after he communicated with the ghost, and passed the message on to the Pharaoh, he became his spiritual adviser."

"Hmm…" I said interestingly, looking at the strange symbols and wondering how on earth he was able to translate them into comprehensible English words.

"The Rosetta stone," Jesse said quietly, sensing my thoughts. "Napoleon's army discovered it on their Egyptian campaign. It had hieroglyphics and two forms of Greek on it, so they were able to figure out what the hieroglyphics meant."

"That's right," Dr. Slaski said, and chuckled. "Is that when the sphinx lost her nose?" Jesse smiled faintly.

"No. We can blame the Turks for that, right?"

Dr. Slaski laughed harder, and clapped Jesse on the back. "Smart kid." Paul looked annoyed.

"I knew that. I saw the Rosetta Stone a few years ago, when my family went to London." I was beginning to feel quite unintelligent.

"Will you help us?" I interrupted. "I'm sorry, I am just very anxious to get home." He nodded, and gestured toward the couch. I sat down, and Jesse and Paul sat on either side of me. Dr. Slaski took the dark green leather armchair.

"When are you from?" he asked.

"2006," Paul supplied. For the first time, he studied Paul's face.

"You look familiar. Like… someone I know… I can't put my finger on it." Paul stiffened. Jesse and I both glanced at each other, and realized that Dr. Slaski must see himself in Paul. Or perhaps the face of his future wife, Paul's grandmother?

"I'm your grandson." We were all silent for a moment, while the two of them looked at each other.

"Well, actually, I just realized you look a bit like my optometrist. But don't worry, I promise to try my hardest not to use the knowledge of your existence while I live my life. That way I won't screw up your life by making assumptions and thus kill you far earlier than intended. Or perhaps never exist at all."

The silence was thick with tension. Paul looked annoyed and slightly embarrassed at the subtle rebuke, and I felt sorry for him.

"Now, are you going to tell me what happened to you, or not?" he asked. We all glanced at each other, and I spoke up.

"It's my fault," I confessed. "I think. I'm the one who went back in the first place. These two just followed me."

"Why did you go back?" I sighed, and told him the story of Father Dom and Marilyn, and how I went back and saved her life and introduced them to each other and sent them on the happy path of romance.

He replied with a raspy laugh. An unkind one.

"You're one of them romantics. An _idealist_," he said scornfully, as if he were calling me a whore or a Satanist. I was offended.

"So? What's wrong with being romantic? Or an idealist?" He laughed harder.

"You're new at this shifting business, aren't you?" he asked, but it wasn't really a question. "For God's sake, you don't travel back in time on a whim, in order to right some petty injustice. Who have you been learning from?" Paul slunk down slightly. "You do realize that each time you go back and forth in time, you lose about 3 years off your life?" I paled slightly, and so did Paul. Jesse just raised his eyebrows. "Besides, you're messing with dangerous stuff, girl. Things bigger and more complex than you will ever comprehend. Messing with things like life and death could have tragic consequences."

"I get it," I bit back tersely. "I made a mistake. I won't do it again. So how do we get back?" He shook his head.

"I have my suspicions. But I don't want to make it too easy for you."

"_What_?" Paul exclaimed. "_Too easy?_ Damn it, we've been stuck in nineteen-fucking-fifty-nine for three days. We have read every word you've published multiple times, looking for clues, hints, anything. We don't know what to do. We're stuck. We can't shift. We need _help_. Some _guidance_. Just give us some damn answers!"

Dr. Slaski looked at us calmly, despite Paul's outburst. "Figure it out yourselves. If you haven't gotten back to 2006 in two weeks, come back. And then I might take pity on you and give you the answer." He looked at Jesse. "I know you aren't all completely stupid. Now go, and try to figure out why you might not be allowed to leave the time where you interfered with fate."

We stood up to leave, grim and irritated. As I stepped out, he chuckled. "Actually, I think I just gave you the answer just there."

And then he shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" I asked. "What answer? When? What did he say?"

We all stared at the door blankly, trying to recall his words and their significance. I came up empty. So did Jesse and Paul.

"I'm sick of this!" I groaned. "I just want to go home! I'm sorry I screwed things up. Is this what we get for trying to do what we thing was right? For trying to save someone's _life_?" Jesse wrapped his arms around me just in time for the floodgates to open. I buried my face in his shoulder and cried, out of exhaustion, frustration, and homesickness. He just rocked me gently, stroking my hair and holding me close.

After a few moments, the tears subsided and I removed my face from Jesse's damp shirt. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me, then gently wiped the tears from my face.

"I'm sorry," I said shakily, accepting the square piece of cloth.

"You never have to be sorry for crying," Jesse said quietly. "I know it's hard. It's hard for all of us. We just need to stick together and work together. We need to discuss things, work it out. We can figure out how to get home. I know we can."

As I withdrew from Suze-and-Jesse world, I noticed Paul's face, and realized at that moment, he would do anything to get away from us. Let's just say he was slightly disgusted from our lovey-dovey affection.

"Come on," he said. "Let's just go."

So we all walked away from another failed attempt, contemplating Dr. Slaski's last words to us.

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Okay, I know this chapter isn't that interesting, or very long. But it has some information in it! I bet some of you have figured it out already. But maybe you haven't.

So I'm leaving for Boston the day after tomorrow, so I hope you guys all review right away so that I can have a lovely send-off. Thanks a bunch!


	10. Chapter 10

So I just realized I haven't updated since July. This is awful. Especially considering it's nearly October. I predict two chapters after this… or, if it becomes necessary, one long, super-chapter. I'm not sure yet. I do have a couple pages written already, though. I'm glad this is finishing, actually, because this is a busy busy fall for me. Wish me luck with all of my college applications.

Read, and enjoy. And don't forget to review!

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The next several days were spent in near silence, with Paul, Jesse, and I all brooding and contemplating Dr. Slaski's advice. I had feared running out of money to pay for the hotel, but Paul managed to chat up the girl at the front desk and get us a Senior Citizen discount, which gave us another week and a half before our cash ran out. We stayed mostly in our hotel room, reading the library books, taking notes, or just sitting there thinking. I was still feeling moody and depressed and homesick, and the constant bickering between Jesse and Paul was grating on my nerves. I'd already had two more breakdowns since the one outside of Dr. Slaski's house, though they were in privacy, without anyone to see me or comfort me. Nearly a week passed before any of us saw Dom or Marilyn again, so I assumed all was well. Or at least better for them than it was for us.

Paul, Jesse, and I went to a grocery store to buy some food. We were beginning to run low on cash, after paying some of our room bill, and couldn't afford to eat out every day. Jesse was holding the basket, like a gentleman, as I deposited whatever I thought we could survive on for the next week—since it seemed unlikely we'd find our way home before Dr. Slaski's deadline. Peanut butter, jelly, a loaf of bread, a couple of apples, a jug of milk…

"What are you going to do, Suze, pack us lunch before we go off to Miss Honey's fourth grade class?" Paul muttered, and I shot him a venomous glance.

"Listen to me, Paul," I said through gritted teeth, "I'm trying to keep us fed and alive until your grandfather can send us home. I'm _sorry_ if you don't like peanut butter and jelly, but if _you_ have an extra twenty bucks hidden away, go ahead. Go buy your own food, and Jesse and I will eat sandwiches for the next fucking week."

"Susannah!" Jesse said, a bit surprised. I guess he had a right. I don't usually swear, or get this emotional, and I was on a crash course for break down number four in one week. This has got to be some sort of record—and I couldn't even use hormones as an excuse.

"Sorry," I muttered, then began walking away.

"Susannah?" At the sound of my name, I turned, and saw Marilyn walking with a middle aged woman in a neat navy pencil skirt and a white, starched button-down shirt.

"Hi, Marilyn," I said, feigning cheeriness.

"Hello, Susannah," she said. "This is my mother."

"Hello," I said cheerfully. "Susannah Simon," I introduced myself, and shook her hand. She looked a little affronted, but was very polite.

"How do you do, Susannah? I've heard quite a bit about you from my Marilyn." Jesse and Paul then came up, both of them trying to look friendly—Jesse was more successful than Paul.

"Oh, Mother, this is Susannah's brother, Paul-" What? Oh. Right. "-and her friend Jesse."

Mrs. Edwards looked slightly less than enthusiastic with these two young, strapping males making acquaintances with her impressionable daughter.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Jesse said, smiling politely.

"Are you from around here?" Mrs. Edwards asked. "I've never seen any of you before."

"We're visiting colleges," I said, suddenly recalling the story we told Marilyn a week ago. "Paul is looking to go to St. Francis'. With his friend, Dominic." Suddenly her face darkened, and Marilyn looked sort of miserable.

"Oh, so you're friends with _that boy_?" she asked coldly, and Paul, Jesse, and I all exchanged looks.

"Mother," Marilyn said plaintively.

"Alright, alright, I'll go look for what I need on the other side of the store. But I'll be back in a moment." With that, she walked away.

"What's going on?" I asked Marilyn, and she sighed.

"Dominic and I have been spending some time together. We met after school the other day," she explained, "and then he brought me home afterward, and my mom got really upset. She thinks he's too old for me, and that he showed a lot of disrespect for not formally asking her to 'court' me. She won't listen that we're not at that point, that all we did was go to get milkshakes—with two of his friends and my friend Barbara, too. We're hardly going steady. But then I told him, so he thought it would be a good idea to come and meet her… and it was just a disaster. When he was leaving to come to my house, his car wouldn't start, so he had to walk up to my house, and then it started to rain. So when he did show up, he was wet and disheveled and late. And there is nothing my mom appreciates more than timeliness and neatness. And it just went downhill from there. My mother disagreed with everything he said, and, of all the odds, his mother works for the company that fired my dad 20 years ago."

"Ouch," Paul muttered.

"That's not fair," I said, feeling personally offended for Father D. "You can't not like someone for his mother's connection to something she likely had nothing to do with." Marilyn sighed.

"_I know_."

"Have you tried talking to her?" Jesse asked. "Explaining this to her?" She looked contemplative.

"A little bit, I suppose. I haven't really tried to argue with her."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because my mother and I don't argue," Marilyn said simply. "We don't have that kind of relationship."

"Would she be receptive to Dominic trying to talk to her?" Jesse asked. Paul looked thoughtful, and remained silent.

"I think he's afraid," she confided, shifting the grocery basket from one arm to the other. "He doesn't know what to say. How can you explain to your friend's mother that the reason she doesn't like him isn't valid, without telling her she's wrong?"

"He doesn't necessarily have to apologize or tell her she's wrong," Paul said, breaking his silence. "Tell him to come by, and tell your mother that they got off on the wrong foot, and have him explain how much he cares for you and he wouldn't dream of hurting you."

"Wow, that's very sweet," I said. He shrugged.

"It works with the parents."

"Oh, I don't know," Marilyn said, visibly anxious. "I don't know if he likes me that much… or that way." I rolled my eyes.

"He totally does." She raised an eyebrow at my wording.

"But I can't just go up to him and tell him to tell my mom that. Besides, she doesn't let me call him, and if she finds out I saw him, she will get mad." I thought for a moment, but then saw Marilyn's mom approaching us again.

"Listen, we'll talk to him. Don't worry about it, okay? We'll sort everything out. God, you two aren't even going out yet, and everything is screwing up. It's like the universe is conspiring against you guys."

"How was your little chat?" Mrs. Edwards asked as she came up to us.

"Fine, Mom," Marilyn said, somewhat tonelessly.

"It was lovely to meet the three of you. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here in Carmel."

"Thank you. Have a nice day," Jesse said, and I grinned. Then they left. I went to buy our food, and we left the grocery store.

"Let's go find Dominic," I said, and turned the corner to head toward the campus.

"Susannah," Jesse said, with an edge of weariness to his voice that made me stop and turn around. "Slow down. You don't have to go off and do it just this second."

"But… but…"

"He's right, Suze," Paul said. "I'm tired. And hungry. And if you're not still pissed off at me, I'd like a sandwich.

"We're not going anywhere, Susannah," Jesse said. He took the bags from me, and grabbed my hand with his free one. "All we've been doing is reading and acting as a go-between for Marilyn and Dominic. If their relationship doesn't work out because you take an afternoon off, it isn't your fault. Go to Dominic later." I sighed, irritated, but allowed him to gently steer me in the other direction back toward the hotel.

Once there, we all collapsed on our respective beds. Paul yawned, turned away from us, and remained silent—until a very slight snoring reached our ears.

Jesse wrapped his arms around me, and I snuggled against him, my head on his shoulder. I sighed, enjoying the relaxation. Jesse and I hadn't had much "alone time," so to speak, since Paul was around all the time. Obviously we couldn't exactly get it on with Paul napping approximately 3 feet away, but we could cuddle. Which isn't quite as good, but perfectly acceptable.

"Mmm… I've missed you," Jesse murmured into my hair.

"We've been together nearly all day, every day, for more than a week," I said, looking up at his face. He had a slight smile dancing on his lips, which pressed themselves quickly and gently against my own.

"Our bodies may have been located near each other… but I feel like I haven't been with you at all."

"I know…" I kissed him again, and he returned my kiss. We lay there for several long minutes, just holding each other and kissing. But then Jesse pulled away, breathing heavily.

"Not now… Paul is right here," he panted. I groaned, and buried my head in his shoulder. "As soon as we get home… and can really be alone…" He trailed off, and I nodded and snuggled closer.

More time passed as we held each other, but soon we heard Paul make the noises of waking up, so we separated and sat up just as he rolled over and stretched.

"You guys hungry?"

We made our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

After that, we went to the St. Francis campus, and waited on a bench near the central quad until we saw Dominic leave the library, and head in our direction.

"Dominic!" I said, getting his attention. He said a quick goodbye to his companion, who walked away.

"Hello," he said politely, but his face was drawn and he looked tired.

"How are you?" I asked sincerely, and he shrugged.

"Alright, I suppose. You heard about Mrs. Edwards, I'm assuming?" I nodded. He sighed. "I don't know what to do," he said hopelessly. "I want to have a relationship with Marilyn, but it's just not working."

Paul spoke up. "It's not a lost cause," he said. "You just need to go back to Mrs. Edwards and talk to her. Dress nice, comb your hair, and explain that you love Marilyn."

Dom looked startled. "I don't… I mean…"

"You love her," Jesse said confidently. "Or if not yet, you will." He gave him a half smile. "Trust me, I know these things." Paul snorted indelicately, and Jesse shot him a withering glare.

"You think I should talk to her, then?" Dom asked, uncertainly. We all nodded.

"Go," I urged, and he bit his lip.

"Okay," he said, smiling nervously. "Thank you."

"Good luck!" I called, as he walked away.

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A little more than an hour later, it was getting dark out, but Jesse, Paul, and I were hanging out in the park. Paul had wandered a few yards ahead of us, which means Jesse and I managed to hold hands without getting sarcastic looks from the third member of our party.

"Do you think he went right to talk to her?" I asked Jesse, leaning against him slightly.

"I think so. I really think he cares about her a lot," he said. "Not only because we know what happens, that he becomes a priest when he can't have her. But even just the way he acts when he's around her and when we're talking about her. He's well on his way to loving her, if he doesn't already. He just doesn't realize it." I thought for a moment.

"I knew he liked her… but I never realized he liked her that much so quickly. I didn't notice anything unusual." Jesse grinned.

"It takes a man in love to recognize one." I stopped, pulled him to look at me, then wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my mouth to his. My heart was flying.

But then, suddenly I felt a different feeling inside. Someone was pulling at me, tugging with all their strength. I pulled away from Jesse, and threw all my muscle and weight into keeping from being pulled over. But no one was touching me except Jesse, who still had a hand resting gently on my arm.

Jesse noticed my pained, concentrated expression. "Susannah, are you okay?" he asked.

His voice distracted me from my defensive position. A giant tug rendered me unbalanced. I fell forward with a surprising force, but Jesse didn't block my fall. I was on the ground, on my stomach.

I grunted as I pushed myself up so I could see. The ground was cool to my touch, not the sun-warmed pavement Jesse and I had been standing on. This was smooth and cold.

As I looked up I realized I was no longer in 1950s-Carmel. Fog surrounded me. Stars twinkled benignly above me, and doors lined the ceiling-less hallway that led on to oblivion.

As I watched, confused and still struggling to bring in air after my belly-flop, I heard hollow, echoing footsteps. Through the fog, the form of a man appeared, walking toward me.

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Lots of reviewsfaster update!


	11. Chapter 11

Am I on a roll, or what? The next chapter (the last chapter) should be up soon.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I scrambled to my feet. Through the fog, the man's form approached. I thought fleetingly that it was Paul, or Jesse, coming to see where I went. But as he got closer, I realized it wasn't them.

It wasn't anyone I knew. I had never seen him before—yet, there was something about him that made his face and presence as familiar to me as my mother's. He was young, maybe in his 20s, with dark hair and piercing gray-blue eyes. I had never seen anything like them—I felt like they could see right through me, into my thoughts, fears, and desires. It was unsettling.

"Who are you?" I asked. He smiled slightly.

"This is something everyone asks, and no one truly knows."

"How did I get here?" I asked, changing the question. He obviously wasn't going to answer me.

"I brought you here," he said.

"Are you a shifter?" I asked. "But you weren't there. No one was holding me, or shifting with me."

"Perhaps I misspoke. I willed your soul to join me here." This was too much. I visualized the park, Jesse, Paul… but nothing happened. The attempts to shift seemed to echo, bouncing around without success. "You can't shift back," he told me. "I'm not letting you."

"Who _are_ you?" I asked, clenching my fists at my side, not out of defense but to mask the shaking.

"I am no one, and I am everyone." The ambiguity was annoying and frightening at the same time.

"Why am I here?"

"You, Susannah, are here because you are meddling in things you shouldn't be. You have had difficulty shifting back to your own time, correct?"

"You did that?" I asked, outraged.

He shrugged noncommittally. "Yes."

"What are you, God?" I asked sarcastically. I realized he wasn't denying it.

"As a manner of speaking, yes. Some call me that. Others have different names for me. I'm not a real being, I just… exist."

"Then who are _you,_ if you're not a person?" I asked, gesturing to his body.

"This is just one manifestation of myself. One that you will respond to best. To others, I will appear female, young, old, black, white…"

This was far too much to comprehend. I felt a headache coming on.

"So what am I doing here?" I asked. "I want to go home."

"I know, Susannah. You are here because we need to discuss some of the things you've been doing the past few days."

"All I've been doing is fixing some things," I defended myself stubbornly.

"But were these things broken?" he asked. I was confused.

"Yes. Dominic and Marilyn are clearly meant for each other. I was just making it possible for them to fulfill their destiny." I was pretty impressed with my answer, but clearly he was not.

"You, child, are seeing things too linearly."

"Why now? Why didn't you yell at me a week ago, then?" I asked. The man, whoever he was—God?—shook his head.

"Let me show you something." He reached for one of the door handles. I gasped, thinking he was going to shove me in and force my soul to move on. But as the door creaked open, no blinding light sucked me through. He pushed the door open all the way.

Through the doorframe was a person. A haziness that shrouded the scene cleared away, like fog on a sunny afternoon. The person—a man—was walking up to a house. It looked vaguely familiar. Then the features of the man came into view.

"Dominic?" I asked, confused. He knocked on the door, and then Mrs. Edwards appeared within the doorframe in the scene.

"Mrs. Edwards," he said, his voice sounding far away, "I hope you're doing well." He seemed nervous, and I realized he was wearing what he was wearing this evening, when we urged him to go see Mrs. Edwards.

"This is happening now," I said, voicing my conclusions out loud.

"This _just_ happened," the mysterious man corrected gently, "in your frame of time."

"Mrs. Edwards, I would like to speak to you about your daughter," he said, after they exchanged forced pleasantries. "I realize you don't approve of me. But I think we got off on the wrong foot," he said. "I care about your daughter deeply, and would never want to hurt her." He continued in this vein, repeating what we had told him, and adding some things of his own.

Then I realized that, at the top of the stairs, out of both Dominic's and Mrs. Edwards' vision was Marilyn, listening intently while chewing on a thumbnail.

Slowly I saw Mrs. Edwards' resolve crumble. She gave Dominic her blessing, then excused herself as Marilyn came down the stairs.

The words they exchanged were muffled, and I couldn't make out what they were saying, but Marilyn's eyes teared up, and then she threw her arms around Dominic's shoulders and they kissed each other—chastely and gently, but on the lips.

Then suddenly, the door closed. I was pulled from the scene and back to where I was.

"Finally!" I exclaimed happily. "Things are right between them now. Right?" He nodded, but didn't share in my excitement.

"They will have their problems, but they just confessed their feelings for one another—and both of them have never felt this way about anyone before, and never will."

"This is great!" I exclaimed, and he shook his head. "Why isn't it great?" I asked.

"Let me show you something else," he said, leading me a few feet down the hallway. He opened another door.

It was a classroom. The haze evaporated, and I saw that it was one of the classrooms in the Mission Academy, but from about 30 years ago. Everyone was dressed in the height of fashion from about 1975, with big hair, bell-bottom pants, and brightly colored shirts.

In front of the classroom was Father Dominic. He was wearing his black shirt and pants with the white collar. He looked younger than how I knew him, but older than the college student I'd met. He was in his 30s. His face was still youthful, but there were slight signs of his aging—a hairline that was back a bit further, faint lines extending from the corners of his eyes and mouth.

He was teaching science. Biology, from what I could tell. He was talking about RNA, DNA, proteins, phosphate groups, and amino acids.

"See that boy?" The voice startled me. It came from behind, in the hallway, not from the classroom. He pointed to a boy, about my age, in the third row. He was enraptured with the lesson, scribbling notes and listening intently. "Father Dominic is the only science teacher he ever liked. He did badly in class because no one could get through to him. But Father Dominic did. That boy—his name is Michael—will become a teacher. Biology and chemistry. Late in his career, one of his students will be struck by him, by the passion he has for science and teacher. That girl, Lisa, will go into the sciences." He paused, and looked at me significantly. "She will direct the team that discovers a new treatment for cancer. It will cut death rates in nearly all types to less than ten percent."

My eyes popped. "When is this?" He shrugged.

"In your concept of time, about 30 years or so." The door closed. "Let me show you another."

He led me down to another door. Again, a light fog obscured the scene, but then cleared.

Startled, I saw Mrs. Edwards. She was older, her hair graying and her skin touched with wrinkles. She was sitting in a church, not one that I recognized, talking to a younger woman, maybe in high school or college. I couldn't hear their conversation, but then Mrs. Edwards clasped the girl's hands, and then embraced.

"After Marilyn died, Mrs. Edwards had a lot of difficulty," the man explained, his voice quiet in my ear. "She had lost her entire family, all of them before their time and in violent, sudden ways. But while she left her religion after her husband and eldest daughter were murdered, she returned to the church with Marilyn's death, and her faith enabled her to recover. She became a counselor to other people who were having a crisis of faith, and made a huge difference in the lives of many people." I watched her mentor the young woman for another moment, and then the door closed again.

"Let me show you one more…" We went to yet another door, and it opened.

It was Father Dominic again, this time in a confessional. He was talking to someone I couldn't see, but his voice was earnest and he had a worried expression on his face. Again, I couldn't hear much of what they were saying, but the tone of voice and his expression were clear: he was nervous, and desperate.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"The man on the other side of the screen is having a… crisis of faith. He is planning to bring a gun to a shelter for young unmarried mothers. He felt it was God's will—_my_ will, if you must—to get rid of the sinners."

"Oh my God." He nodded, confirming the seriousness of the situation.

"Father Dominic was the priest on duty that day for penance. The man was confessing so that, when he did go to kill those girls and their children, he would have been cleansed of his own sins so he could enter Heaven, should he be martyred."

"_Martyred_?"

"His words."

"What happened?" I asked, shocked.

"Father Dominic managed to convince him otherwise. Told him that God doesn't approve of violence, that those girls have been forgiven by Jesus and the Lord."

"What happened?"

"The man was still a little bit crazy—but his conversation with Father Dominic led him away from violence. He was later institutionalized, however, for other reasons."

"What… what would have happened if Father Dominic wasn't there?" The smile on his face showed that I had finally asked the question he had been waiting for me to ask.

"Seven of the 15 girls there would be murdered. Three of them were pregnant. Two other girls who were pregnant lost their child, and one was paralyzed permanently."

"What about the other scenes you showed me? What happens if Marilyn didn't die?" I knew this was what he wanted.

"The way it stands now, after you changed it, Marilyn and Dominic get married when she turns twenty, and he is 23. Marilyn stays at home with their children, and Dominic works at a local insurance company."

"Insurance? He doesn't teach?" He shook his head.

"He and Marilyn have five children. The teaching salaries couldn't support a family of seven. He earned more in insurance."

Father Dom, an insurance salesman? It was absurd.

"So… that kid never 'appreciated the sciences'?" He shook his head.

"Michael never became a teacher. He was a construction worker. He never inspired Lisa to go into the sciences, so no one discovers the treatment."

"And Mrs. Edwards…?"

"She never reconciled with the Church."

My mind whirled. It was hard to comprehend the connections, the consequences, the results of one girl's death.

"So… what do you want me to do?" I asked. "How do I fix it?"

He didn't say anything, just looked at me somberly. "I think you know the answer."

"What? No I don't. I…" Suddenly it dawned on me. "No. I can't do that."

"Susannah, you were the vehicle of change. No one else can correct it." My throat hurt, and I felt a growing pressure behind my eyes.

"I can't."

"It has to be done."

"Why? I mean, I changed Jesse's history, I brought his body to the future, for God's sake. What's different?" He smiled slightly.

"Very little changed that night." I snorted. "Well, in your eyes it did. Your life was changed drastically—but his family thought he had died in the first place. Even though he wasn't murdered by Diego, his family still suffered the loss. They thought him to be dead. And Maria, well, she married someone else quite easily. Diego's death didn't result in much earth-shattering change of the lives of his family or friends, or the other townspeople."

As much as I hated Diego, it saddened me that someone could die without changing anything.

"Susannah… I'll allow you to shift back to your body now. But if you ever want to get back to your time—and allow Paul and Jesse back too—you know what you must do."

Suddenly, the tears that were threatening to free themselves burst out.

"But they're meant to be together. They're soul mates!"

"These two are not always inclusive of each other. Some people are meant to be together, but are not soul mates; some are soul mates, but are not meant to be together forever. In actuality, being able to have the two is very rare. You're one of the rare ones, Susannah. But just because you have been given that gift of spending your life with the one you will love forever doesn't give you the right to force things that are not meant to be. Dominic and Marilyn are, as you guessed, soul mates. There is a reason her spirit stayed behind, to meet Dominic. They both needed to know what that felt like, to have it at least for a little while. They are both better for it. Without Dominic, Marilyn wouldn't have been able to move on, having truly loved someone; and Marilyn showed Dominic what love really was. After she was gone, like it did for her mother, his faith became stronger. He knew he was never going to love again, not like he loved Marilyn, and his faith allowed him to take a different calling."

"But… would they be happy, if they married?"

"They would be. They would've been happily married until their deaths."

"They did love each other, though," I said, feeling like I needed it confirmed. He nodded.

"But Susannah, they will both be happy in different ways the way it was supposed to happen."

"But Father Dom is so upset! He was heartbroken! I can't do that to him."

"He gets through it, doesn't he? His heart heals. He is able to move on with his life." He looked at me expectantly, silently urging me to do what he wanted.

"I don't want to. I can't. I can't do it," I sobbed. He looked at me with a mix of sympathy and resolution.

"Yes you can. Go, Susannah."

Then his face disappeared. I felt the same tugging sensation, then fell backward.

I opened my eyes, and found myself looking up at Jesse. My head was on his lap, and he was cradling my head gently. His face was pale and drawn.

"_Querida!_ Are you alright?"

"Yea… ow…" I sat up, and he helped me. My head pounded.

"What happened?"

"You shifted, right?" Paul asked. "But I tried to shift into Shadowland, and I couldn't. It was blocked." I nodded.

The tears started again as I realized what I had to do.

"Susannah, what's the matter? Are you okay?" Jesse asked, concerned.

"What happened?" I asked him, trying to avoid my task.

"You just… fell. I caught you and got you to the ground without hurting yourself. Paul helped me carry you here." I realized I was sprawled on a park bench. "It was so sudden. I didn't know what happened… and you wouldn't wake up."

"I'm okay," I said, gently touching his cheek, grateful for his concern. I stood up, my tears still coursing down my cheeks as I took a deep breath.

"Listen. There's something I have to do," I said, then stood up.

"Suze, wait," Paul said, grabbing my wrist. "What happened? You were in Shadowland, right? What's going on?"

I shook my head. "I can't say… but I know how to get us home." His grip tightened on my wrist.

"How? What happened? What did you find out?"

"I'm sorry. I have to go," I said. I shook myself free of his hold. I looked around, grabbed the lamp post I was standing next to, and shifted.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I was in the park. It was mid afternoon, and several people looked over at me, startled. I didn't think anyone actually saw me appear, but I certainly hadn't been standing at the bench a moment earlier.

I quickly walked toward Sycamore and Fourth Street. I checked a clock that protruded from a store front, and saw that it was ten minutes after three. I had time.

As I arrived at the department, the saleswoman smiled and greeted me politely.

I didn't know how this worked. Would I be here, in both of my incarnations? I knew I had to stop myself. Where did I arrive, last week? Was it only a week? It seemed like months.

I recalled the bathroom, so I walked quickly toward that part of the store. I knocked on the bathroom door, and hearing no answer I locked the door from the outside. I knew I would be arriving any moment, and I needed to prevent my leaving the store.

A radio was playing, and I could her faint drifts of an old Elvis song. _"Now and then there's a fool such as I am over you...You taught me how to love, and now you say that we are through. I'm a fool, but I'll love you dear until the day I die...Now and then there's a fool such as I..."_

I left the store, shaking. I sat down on a bench lining the street, and stared straight forward for a long time, trying to keep myself from crying. I was shuddering from the effort. A few tears escaped anyway. A middle aged woman saw me crying, and asked if I was alright. I shook my head, and shooed her away.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew my hair in front of my face. Behind me, I heard a quiet crash, a thud, like something falling. Then I heard Marilyn's voice.

"Oh no!" she cried, and even though I had been trying my hardest not to look, to focus my attention elsewhere, I turned…

And saw as the big, black car hit Marilyn, her face caught in eternal surprise. Her body fell to the ground, crumpling. There was less blood than I had expected, and for that I was thankful.

One second. Two. One of her friends shrieked her name. Another one screamed for help. From her limp hands blew the paper she had rushed to retrieve. The black car pulled away. He whipped around the corner, and I looked into the face of the person who killed her.

I caught his gaze for only a moment, but the blue-gray eyes shot through me with an intensity that stripped me bare. The man's dark hair was hidden in the shadow of the car, and his young face was sad.

Then the car sped away.

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How sad! This was hard to write. I didn't want it to happen… but it had to.

I know people aren't going to be overly pleased. But review, okay? The next update shouldn't be long, barring any unexpected homework this week. One more chapter to go, guys.

PS- Song credits to Elvis. Title credits too, since for those of you who didn't pick up on it, I got the story name from the song. Which was, in fact, a top-ten song in Spring 1959. I did my research, kids.


	12. Chapter 12

So, more than a year later, here it is: the conclusion to A Fool Such as I

So, more than a year later, here it is: the conclusion to A Fool Such as I. A lot has changed in the past year and a half for me… I now live part-time in DC, where I go to school. I have two jobs. I assume if you're reading this, you've either stuck it through with me, or a new reader who saw this update on the main page and decided to start from the beginning. In either case, thank you for reading.

Recap:

_Suddenly, a gust of wind blew my hair in front of my face. Behind me, I heard a quiet crash, a thud, like something falling. Then I heard Marilyn's voice._

"_Oh no!" she cried, and even though I had been trying my hardest not to look, to focus my attention elsewhere, I turned…_

_And saw as the big, black car hit Marilyn, her face caught in eternal surprise. Her body fell to the ground, crumpling. There was less blood than I had expected, and for that I was thankful._

_One second. Two. One of her friends shrieked her name. Another one screamed for help. From her limp hands blew the paper she had rushed to retrieve. The black car pulled away. He whipped around the corner, and I looked into the face of the person who killed her._

_I caught his gaze for only a moment, but the blue-gray eyes shot through me with an intensity that stripped me bare. The man's dark hair was hidden in the shadow of the car, and his young face was sad._

_Then the car sped away._

**Chapter Twelve**

I shifted back home. It finally worked. I opened my eyes to the faded, occasionally cracked, tile of the coffee shop bathroom. My head throbbed, and I rest my forehead against the cool glass of the mirror for several minutes, until I could see straight. Tears still leaked out of my closed eyes.

I hadn't killed her. I wasn't the one behind the wheel, the One who didn't—couldn't—slow down when He saw the girl dart out into the street. I did what I had to do. One life for the lives of millions. Hell, _God_ told me to stand back.

So why did I feel like I'd just plunged a knife into Marilyn's chest?

After I was reasonably composed, I slipped out of the bathroom. A few people were sitting at the tables, engrossed in their laptops or the _San Francisco Chronicle_, and didn't notice me. I didn't really notice them. A barista looked up at me with a curious look on his face, but I gave a weak smile and slipped out the door. A glance at my cell phone told me very little time had passed. It was 3:30, the same day that I had shifted.

I stopped at the corner, and looked at the street that now rushed with SUVs and sleek sports cars and mini-vans, on their way to pick up kids from school. A somewhat macabre thought came to my head. _Do these people know that a girl died on that street? That a life ended right there? That a young woman's blood leaked over the pavement until there was no longer enough left in her body for her heart to pump, no longer enough oxygen to sustain her cells and organs?_

"Susannah?" Jesse came up behind me, and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Susannah, what is going on? Are you all right?" I turned away from the traffic to look at Jesse. He saw the tear tracks on my cheeks, and his frown deepened. "Susannah, what's wrong?" He paused. "You were going to shift back, weren't you? To 1959?"

And suddenly I realized. Jesse and Paul didn't know what happened. When I went back the second time, to correct my mistake, it precluded them from following me and shifting. They never met Marilyn or the young Father Dominic.

"I did."

"You did what? You shifted back? But when I realized what you were planning, I followed you. You were only in the bathroom for five, ten minutes. I was about to check, see if you were still there, when you burst out. You didn't see me, just rushed out to the street."

"Oh, Jesse. I went back, but I was there for days. You came, and so did Paul. But we got stuck, and couldn't come home." Jesse's face remained impassive, but his eyes belied his calm demeanor.

"Susannah, but you were only gone for a few minutes. Not a few days. Are you feeling all right? _Querida_, maybe we should talk to Paul… he might know what happened." The fact that he was suggesting we talk to Paul showed how worried he was. But I knew what happened. There was someone else I needed to talk to.

"No. Can we go back to school? Father Dom should be there… I need to tell him some things." Jesse agreed, wrapped his arm around my waist, and led me to his car.

…………………….

"Good afternoon, Jesse, Miss Simon," the receptionist said with a smile. "What are you two still doing here?"

"Hello, Lianne," Jesse said politely, his hand holding mine protectively. "Is Father still here?"

"Yes, he is. He might be on the phone, but you two can go right back. He's always pleased to see you." He thanked her, and then we passed her desk and knocked gently on the wooden door, opening it when a muffled voice called to us to come in.

"Susannah, Jesse. I wasn't expecting you. Is there a problem?" he asked. I looked over his face, lined with age, searching for the handsome visage of the young man I'd recently met. I was glad that I could find it.

"Father, Susannah had a strange shifting experience… she wanted to talk to you."

Father Dominic frowned, displeased. "Susannah, you _know_ how dangerous that is. Why would you do such a thing?" He sighed. "Maybe we should get Paul; he knows more about this than I do."

"No, I need to tell you something," I said, finally speaking. He gestured to the chairs, and Jesse and I sat down. I took a deep breath before starting my story. "I went back. To when Marilyn died."

"Susannah! Why… oh, no, you didn't!" Father Dom said, stunned. "But, then, why haven't things changed?"

"It's a long story," I said, then I launched into it. My audience listened silently. Jesse had his arm around my shoulders, watching me attentively, while Father Dom wasn't looking at me. He was staring blankly at one of the religious pictures on the wall of his office. But I knew he was listening.

And so I told them—about shifting back, about saving Marilyn and preventing her death, and introducing her to Dominic. About Jesse and Paul's arrival, about not being able to go back. How we kept meddling, and kept being held back. Father D's face changed, from wistful, to nostalgic, to sad, to an expression of bittersweet acceptance.

However, the big part was coming up… the part I was most concerned about sharing. I know this particular audience—two people who can see ghosts, one of whom used to be one—wasn't going to start hauling out the straightjackets, but still… I didn't want them to call Bellevue on me.

"Jesse, you don't remember any of this, do you?" Father Dom finally asked, when I hesitated.

"No, I don't. I found Susannah on the street, about five minutes after she had intended to shift. I never went, and there was no way she was gone for as long as several days."

"That's because I shifted back. Again. From May 5 or whatever to May 1 again, before Jesse and Paul came, before I had saved her. I locked the bathroom door, to keep the _other_ me, the first me, from getting out. Then I… didn't do anything." The guilt returned, and a few tears slipped from my eyes.

"Oh, Susannah," Jesse sighed, thick with sympathy and understanding. He eased himself closer to me and rubbed soothing circles on my back. Father Dom looked so sad, so broken, I didn't know how to continue. How he could ever look at me again. I had just told him that I had, essentially, killed the love of his life.

"Susannah… why would you do that?" I flinched at his words, but he backtracked. "I mean, why did _you_ choose to do that? You were so set on us together… what made you shift a second time?"

I sighed, and bit my lip. Jesse squeezed my hand encouragingly.

"I… I spoke to God." Two sets of eyes flashed to my face, shock evident in both. "I know you think I'm crazy! But seriously. It wasn't like a booming voice from a cloud, or a burning bush or anything. I was pulled into Shadowland, and there was a man there. He was young. And we talked." Neither of them said anything. I groaned. "Please, no straightjackets. I'm serious. Please trust me."

"I do, Susannah," Father Dom said solemnly, over his shock. "I admit, you aren't the first person I'd expect to have an interview with God, but I don't doubt your encounter."

"Thank you."

"Please, Susannah… what did you talk about?" he asked, almost pleading.

"He showed me things in the future. Or maybe it was the past. I'm not sure. But do you remember a student named Michael? From the mid-70s?" He looked perplexed.

"Susannah, I couldn't possibly remember all the students I had named Michael 30 years ago."

"Well, he really liked you. You made him like science. So then he became a teacher, and did the same thing for someone else, who is going to cure cancer, or something."

"What?"

"Well, not cure it, but develop a new treatment. If you hadn't become a priest, you would've sold insurance, or something, and that never would've happened. And that man in the confessional—the one who was going to bring a gun to the shelter." Father Dom's eyes popped.

"Susannah, what… why… how do you know about that?"

"God told me, remember? If you weren't a priest, if you weren't there that day, a ton of people would have died. And babies, too." His eyes shone, and I had a feeling he was holding back tears. "And after Marilyn died, Mrs. Edwards returned to church, and became a counselor or something." Then I scooted as close as possible to his desk, leaving Jesse and his arm behind. I looked at him intensely, trying to make him understand why I had failed to save Marilyn. And, as I explained, I began to accept. "And Father Dom, listen… if I had saved Marilyn, you guys would've been happy. Really. You'd have had five kids and a long life, and a happy marriage. But the man I spoke to—God—said something about how being meant to be and soul mates aren't the same thing… that you and Marilyn were soul mates, but not destined to be together. And then He made me go back and fix things. Because even though it wasn't fair to either of you, to have her die early and you lose the one you love, it saved, like, millions of lives, and made a lot of people happy in ways you probably would never even know."

The room was silent, save a gentle tick of a wall clock. Tears were streaming down my face, and I noticed Father Dom's cheeks weren't completely dry either. Jesse had reclaimed a hand of mine, and held it in two of his own.

Father Dom cleared his throat, then said, hoarsely and hesitantly, "I… thank you, Susannah. I've wondered my whole life if this was what I was supposed to do, or if it was just an extreme reaction to a tragedy. I've tried to trust that I've been following God's plan, but this… Susannah, just… thank you." He stood, walked around his desk, and laid a hand on my shoulder for a moment. "Now, I think I'd like some time alone."

Without another word, he left his office.

……………..

A little while later, Jesse and I were laying together on his bed, holding hands and staring at the ceiling in silence. We hadn't said much since we'd left the school, both of us still processing what had transpired.

"There was something else," I said suddenly, turning my head to look at Jesse. He did the same, his eyes questioning. "The guy in Shadowland—I feel so weird calling him God—said that the two of us, we're really rare. That soul mates and people who are meant to be aren't usually the same. But we are." Jesse smiled, and moved his hand up to gently caress my cheek.

"I know, _Querida_. That is something I've been sure of for a long time. Well, not the 'meant to be.' It was hard to convince myself of that when I was a ghost, as much as I wanted it to be true. But that night, when you brought me back… once my soul was reunited with my body, I knew we were both—you were my other half, and my destiny."

We stared at each other, my eyes tearing again, our gazes never straying. It was too intense for words. So, with a watery voice—

"Wow, Jesse, way to cheese it up." He laughed, and pulled me closer to him, so I was curled against his side, my head on his shoulder and my arm across his chest.

Where I was supposed to be.

_The End_

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Thank you, again, to all my reviewers. To the people who stuck with this story, who gave me a reason to finish it. I hope this ending is worth the wait.


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